


Playing with Fire

by Lintoro



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, Bad Decisions, Canon Divergence - Pre-Thor (2011), Canon-Typical Violence, Drugged Sex, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Mutual Pining, POV Multiple, Sexual Assault, Sibling Incest, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-11 00:25:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18671452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lintoro/pseuds/Lintoro
Summary: It started off as a harmless prank. Rather, it was a harmless prank until it got completely out of hand and turned around to burn Loki instead, worse than he could ever have anticipated.Meanwhile, Thor finds himself embroiled in a mystery. Something is wrong with Loki, but no-one is willing to so much as hint at what it might be. Worse yet, he is suddenly all too aware of his illicit feelings for his brother, feelings which don't seem to abate no matter how he tries to quell them.It's only a matter of time before things reach another boiling point...





	1. Kindling

Hogun lowered his hand. "It's time."  
  
With a final, decisive gulp, Thor drained the remaining ale from his tankard and bashed it against the table, knocking down the pile of mugs he had accumulated so far. He raised his hands in the air and watched as Volstagg wiped the beard on his chin with the back of his hand, then placed his yet half full drink on his side of the board.  
  
"Let us see, then." Lady Sif leaned forward across the table. Her arms were folded, but her smile suggested that while she still thought the contest foolish, she was willing to play along. "Will you count Volstagg's, Fandral?"  
  
Fandral did as he was bid, and it wasn't long till they had a winner. Thor had triumphed by half a tankard.  
  
"A worthy match," he said as he slapped Volstagg's back, then raised his voice to catch the servants' attention. "Another!"  
  
The word rang above the general merriment, and he pictured both Odin and Frigga at the far end of the table turning their eyes in his direction. At the present moment, the thought amused his tremendously.  
  
"You're still going to continue after that?" Loki asked incredulously, lowering his drinking horn from his lips.  
  
Thor grinned at him. "I have yet to truly begin, brother."  
  
Loki narrowed his eyes. "You only have yourself to blame if come tomorrow you're begging us to end your misery." Still, his tone was free of reproach, and he looked on mildly as two servants hurried to free the table from the excess tankards and brought Thor and Volstagg fresh drinks.  
  
Thor flashed him another smile, then looked around. Though the golden halls of Asgard were always beautiful, he had never thought one a more welcome sight than he did right then. Perhaps absence had made his heart grow fonder, or else it was witnessing all the people who had come to celebrate his return that gave his home such a wondrous sheen.  
  
Whatever the case, he raised his mead for a toast. "To Asgard!"  
  
He drank deeply at the chorus of responses, savouring the taste and how it fed the warmth within him, then looked on with a smile as the conversation turned back to their adventures in Alfheim.  
  
"It's more ornamental than practical, perhaps," Lady Sif was showcasing to Fandral the blade she had won on their journey, holding it aloft to better display its masterfully wrought edges and the vine-patterned finish of the hilt, "but I'm glad to have it all the same."  
  
"It's a prize well worth having," Fandral agreed, then eyed the rest of his companions with open curiosity. "How did you wind up earning such a treasure?"  
  
All turned towards Thor, who took the attention with good humour. "Our host had other guests, one of whom wagered he was the strongest warrior in all the Nine Worlds. The exact details elude me, but in the end, we all proved our mettle."  
  
"I recall them all too well," Loki said abruptly, with a wry smile just barely present. "And I wager you would likewise remember your boasts had you and Volstagg not drunk an entire cask of spirits between the pair of you."  
  
Volstagg nodded. "We showed the elves a thing or two about the iron livers of the Aesir."  
  
"We did," said Lady Sif. "Sadly, it came at the cost of a blemish in our record when it came to combat," At her comment, Thor recalled how Volstagg had gone up against a lithe elven brawler two heads shorter than him, not connecting with a single blow before she had him on his knees.  
  
Volstagg gave a good-natured shrug. "I cannot hold a grudge against someone so swift and sure-footed." He concluded his words by throwing his head back and chugging down another drink.  
  
"Is that cut of the same origin?" asked Fandral, eyeing the scar by Thor's collarbone.  
  
Thor put his empty tankard down and poked at the scab. "From a different warrior, but aye." The wound was mostly healed and had never threatened his life, but it had been a nasty surprise in the heat of battle. After a moment's thought, he dipped his fingers to his belt and placed onto the table the very knife that had bit into his flesh, which his opponent had gifted him following his victory. It was delicate, with a design similar to those on Sif's new blade, and of little value to him, but it was a pleasing token all the same.  
  
Fandral gave it a polite look before turning towards Hogun, who sat directly to his right. "How did you prove your skill?"  
  
In response, Hogun placed his elbow on the table and glanced meaningfully at Loki, who sat opposite of him. Loki responded by raising a single eyebrow and refusing to budge, but Hogun didn't appear to mind; when his challenge wasn't met, he reached within his armour and retrieved a triangular pendant made out of fine silver.  
  
Fandral frowned as he examined the amulet. "Are those the runes of the Vanir?"  
  
"They are indeed." A hint of a smile rose to Hogun's lips as he read the inscription before tucking the amulet back to safety. "By the look of the writing, it must be ancient."  
  
Thor was so focused on Hogun's pleasure at having earned an unexpected keepsake from his home world that he nearly missed Fandral's next comment. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."  
  
He picked up his tankard and raised it in Fandral's direction, only recalling it was empty after the fact. "We shall go back with you, my friend."  
  
Loki took a long sip from his drink, then set the empty horn on the table. "Assuming they are willing to welcome us again."  
  
Thor chuckled. "I'm sure they wish for a rematch as much as we wish to trounce them again."  
  
"Has your hand healed well?" Hogun asked Fandral, as though still angling for an arm-wrestling match.  
  
"I cannot begrudge the healers for their efforts. Give it a day or two, and it will be good as new." Though no-one beyond their immediate circle was likely to be listening to their talk, Fandral glanced around before leaning across the table. "Staying behind wasn't an utter waste. Those rumours from before?"  
  
Thor leaned in to meet him. "You heard more of them?"  
  
"It's all but confirmed, I would say. The All-Father is definitely planning on retiring and passing on his rule."  
  
Even knowing his father's plans moved at the speed of glaciers, Thor saw no reason to keep the broad grin off his face. After all, Odin's withdrawal from the throne could only mean one thing: the fulfillment of his greatest dream since childhood.  
  
He looked around. "Anyone wish to bet how many years it will be till we are drinking at my coronation, instead?"  
  
Amidst cheery murmurs, Loki rose from the bench and, grabbing both his horn and Thor's tankard, walked several paces away to the nearest cask. Thor looked on with surprise, trying to recall the previous time his brother had bothered to pour anything for himself, let alone someone else. He decided to accept the offered drink with all the more gratitude, assuming it wasn't an obvious prank.  
  
"You didn't speak of your triumph yet, brother," he said as Loki returned, both vessels brimming with golden, frothy ale.  
  
Loki seated himself. "Oh, yes. I won the riddle contest." He didn't elaborate, but by the glazed look in his eyes, Fandral wasn't dying to hear further details.  
  
Thor persisted. "Did you have time to examine your prize? That mouldy book?"  
  
"I did. It was far less interesting than I hoped it would be." With an exceptionally fluid motion for someone who had already drunk more than his share, Loki held out the tankard without spilling so much as a single drop. "It's of little use to you, assuming you wouldn't like to try poisoning your foes instead of smashing in their skulls."  
  
Thor smiled and took the drink, finding it refreshingly free of both worms and dead leaves. "I shall leave its secrets to you, brother. To Asgard!"  
  
Again, he downed the entire tankard following the response to his toast, then tossed it behind him, where it ricocheted from the wall to general amusement. The night had only just begun.


	2. A Sudden Blaze

The last notes of celebration had long since faded into the star-studded sky by the time Loki was half leading, half dragging Thor towards his rooms.  
  
He suppressed the urge to grouse, pushing it to the corner of his mind where he stored all his grievances for a more suitable occasion. At least the Norns had granted him one mercy in that his brother was still conscious enough to understand what their goal was, but from his meandering steps and the heaviness of his lean against Loki's shoulder, their journey looked to be a long one.  
  
He moved his arm to better support Thor's weight, wondering where his prank had gone wrong. It wouldn't have been a masterstroke of wit, precisely — he had merely hoped Thor would embarrass himself while Father was there to witness it — but to see it come to nothing was galling all the same. Who knew he had inadvertently told the truth when he had claimed the manuscript on elven alchemy to be worthless?  
  
In truth, the book had been worth at least a second look. Alchemy wasn't his kind of magic — far too reliant on reagents and herbs and things other than his own abilities — but scouring the manuscript during lulls in their journey had passed the time regardless, even if the recipes had proven mostly useless: all that were easy to concoct had minor effects at best, while the actually potent ones either held no relevance to him or else required ingredients which hadn't been found in any of the Nine Worlds since the end of Asgard's war with Jotunheim.  
  
There had been a one potion, however, which he thought might serve as an amusing diversion. A set of instructions in particularly poor condition claimed to result in a serum that would peel away all defensive layers and compel the victim to act upon their true thoughts and feelings regardless of audience; and, presumably, make an ass of them in the process.  
  
He had carefully reconstructed the text, mindful of both the difference in runes and language drift, and had, with some effort, procured the necessary ingredients as soon as they had returned home. The result had been a small glass vial's worth of clear, viscous liquid, faintly blue when held to the light. The instructions had asserted three drops were potent enough for the full effect, and so the rest remained tucked within a hidden pocket inside his robe.  
  
Thor chose that exact moment to stumble, nearly toppling over before steadying himself against Loki.  
  
Loki sighed, bracing himself under the sudden pressure. Sure enough, Thor had been loud throughout the night, eager to exclaim how happy he was and how proud he was to have such stalwart companions, but none of it had been any different from how he usually acted at feasts after a certain threshold of drunkenness. Either one of the necessary substitutions for some of the rarer and no longer extant ingredients had been ineffective, or else — and the thought made him wonder if he could manifest snakes in someone's bed an entire world across — the manuscript itself was a fake, given to him by the elves so they could have a chuckle about the foolishness of the gods afterwards.  
  
"'S a good night," Thor commented out of the blue, an oddly wistful smile on his face. Despite his inebriated state, his slurring was barely noticeable.  
  
"The greatest of all, no doubt." Why was it that corridors always seemed twice as long in the dark as they did during the day?  
  
He was considering if he should simply leave his brother in the first convenient location he found when Thor threw his other arm to join the first around his shoulders, turning their stance into a sidelong hug. "I mean it."  
  
"I believe you." Glancing over at him, Loki spotted the knitting cut by Thor's neck, and recalled the flash of the silver-edged dagger which had struck the blow. It had been a beautiful blade, one he would have liked for himself if Thor had not earned it first.  
  
"Another stroke of luck," he said, reaching between them and tracing a finger across the scar. "You shouldn't rely so much on your good fortune, brother. It will run out and get you killed one of these days." Not that he truly believed it. He had a nagging feeling no matter how many deadly risks Thor threw himself at and how many blades he took to his throat, he would somehow outlive Loki.  
  
Thor had turned his head sluggishly to stare where the touch lingered on his skin. Loki retracted his hand, but before he could fall deeper into dark musings, Thor spoke. "I won, didn't I?"  
  
"Yes, yes." There was no point arguing with him so far gone. "We are all exceedingly proud of you."  
  
Thor's brow furrowed. "I must be the strongest."  
  
For once, it was a declaration of purpose rather than a boast, and Loki replied accordingly. "I would say your reputation as the greatest warrior is well established by now. Would Father consider handing you the throne if it weren't the case?"  
  
"It's more than that." Thor leaned away from Loki, seeking purchase from the moonlight-streaked wall. His eyes stared at the shadows ahead of them as though perceiving something that existed only to him  "There won't always be peace. You know as well as I do that the Jotuns will invade Asgard the moment they think they stand a chance."  
  
Loki gave him a friendly pat on the arm. "I'm sure words of your many deeds are enough to spook them into cowardice."  
  
If Thor registered the sarcasm, his expression didn't show it. "I want to protect Asgard."  
  
Something about the solemnity with which the words were uttered gave Loki pause. He had held many a philosophical discussion with drunk Thor before, and while this particular sentiment had bled into his statements before, it was rarely with this kind of intensity.  
  
"I know you do." As he spoke, he took a closer look at Thor's face, and discovered his eyes had gone black. It was difficult to tell in the scant light, but a further inspection revealed his pupils had entirely swallowed the whites of his eyes but for a thin rim around the edges, like a solar eclipse.  
  
Thor noticed his stare and laughed. "Are you trying to tell if I'm being truthful?"  
  
"No. I believe you." Could it be? But then, Thor acted hardly any different from his usual happy drunken self. "After all, you love Asgard."  
  
"Aye." They came to a complete halt, Thor swaying despite Loki's support. "I love Asgard. I love Mother and Father. I love Heimdall. I love the Warriors Three. I love Lady Sif."  
  
Granted, it wasn't unheard of for an inebriated Thor to grab anyone foolish enough to venture near and crush them into an affectionate bear hug, but combined with the dilated pupils, it was clear the list of love confessions was fuelled by more than mead. Hadn't the potion been meant to have a near instantaneous effect? Something was indeed wrong with the manuscript.  
  
He bypassed the thought for now. "And me?"  
  
At that, Thor straightened his back. He looked Loki in the eye with surprising steadiness. "I love you most of all."  
  
Loki blinked at him, then looked away, trying not to smile. Whatever the potion did, it wasn't what the instructions had claimed. All the same, it was obviously having _some_ effect.  
  
A mischievous thought crossed his mind. It may have beem too late at night for Thor to make a fool of himself in public, but there was plenty of time for him to do so in private.  
  
"So you love Sif, then?" Her rooms were the nearest from where they stood.  
  
Thor closed his eyes. "Of course."  
  
"Good." With a flick of his wrist, he cast a spell to shroud them from Heimdall's watchful eye. Its duration needed work, but other than that it worked wonders: since creating it, he had had no trouble sneaking wherever he wished without the watchman of the gods reporting on him, all for the price of remembering to re-apply it at regular intervals. "Don't you think you ought to tell her that? Think how happy she will be at such joyous news."  
  
A fond smile rose to Thor's lips.  
  
Loki smiled back. He was reasonably certain Thor loved Sif the same way he loved the Warriors Three, which was to say foremost as a friend, but that didn't mean him barging through her door in the dead of night and rambling on about how much he adored her wouldn't make for a hilarious conversational piece the morning after.  
  
"Let us go find her, then." He nudged at Thor till he got the hint.  
  
Once they reached the end of the corridor, he took a turn towards where Sif slept. Thor followed to the best of his ability, but soon he stumbled and Loki had to shore him up once more. His brother's sheer solid presence, especially where his muscular, mail-covered arm pressed against his neck and shoulder, felt heavier by the moment.  
  
"So, it's all love with you, then?" he asked airily when the journey dragged on, mostly to distract himself from the warm weight.  
  
Thor's head swayed to the side after each nod, his breathing shallow.  
  
Loki wasn't particularly surprised. For all his faults, Thor didn't have a mean bone in his body. "And here I hoped you would have some deep, dark secret to share with us."  
  
Eventually, they reached another corner, with Sif's room directly to the left of it. Before they could go around it, Loki heard muffled footsteps, and held his arm against Thor's front to keep him still. The sound didn't repeat.  
  
"All right, we will—" As he lowered his hand, he accidentally brushed it against Thor's crotch. He hastily withdrew it. "Well. I didn't know you liked her that much."  
  
"It's not her," Thor said in a dark voice.  
  
Loki managed nothing more than a frown before he was spun around and caught up in a suffocating embrace, Thor's lips pressing demandingly against his.  
  
Blood rushed through his head, drowning out all sense of time and space. By the time their mouths parted, he found himself with his back to the wall and Thor flush against him, staring down with a fiery gaze.  
  
Loki swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Thor wasn't precisely known for his talents as a prankster, and the sheer intensity with which he pushed himself closer still was beyond his acting abilities, anyway.  
  
"Thor—" Already as he said this, they were slowly but inexorably sliding towards the floor. By the time he fought to keep his balance, he could no longer find the leverage to push back, and soon found himself sprawled on his back, one hand pinned above his head, the other trapped against his ribcage with the entirety of Thor's bulk on top of him, his mouth so close to his he could smell the sour note of lingering alcohol.  
  
He drew a deep breath in spite of it. "Very amusing. Now perhaps we might rise."  
  
Instead, Thor leaned in closer, his long hair brushing against Loki's face as he sought eye contact. "I love you."  
  
Heat spread into Loki everywhere their bodies touched, from the fingertips of his caught arm to their entangled legs. For the first time in a century he found himself at a loss for words.  
  
Perhaps he too had drunk too much.  
  
"I don't believe you mean that." As much as he would have liked to sink into the inviting pleasure, only a fool would have been unable to tell something was deeply wrong. He attempted to snatch his hand away. "Release me."  
  
If anything, Thor's grip around his wrist tightened. "I do mean it. I love you. I have loved you for longer than I can remember."  
  
Loki stared. The slurring in his voice was gone, but there was a peculiar cadence to the words, like they were bursting out at their own volition. His eyes, lustrous with uncontrolled emotion, looked more alien by the moment.

Even so, he felt a flutter at the words.  
  
He turned his head away, yet arched his back when Thor descended to plant a line of kisses on his neck. A small part of him observing him from a distance warned him that he had completely lost control of the situation, but to his great confusion he discovered that he almost didn't mind. It was so easy to drift into a warm haze where only the present mattered and all his plans and ploys to improve his lot in life felt like they belonged to another person entirely. It helped that when he squinted, he could very nearly pretend the man above him was a handsome stranger and not his brother.  
  
Then, Thor turned his head, and he couldn't help but recognise his profile, but save for a quiver running through him, he kept still as a warm hand pressed against his front and clumsily attempted to undo his robe.  
  
Distantly, he realised his previously trapped arm was free, and as he was coming to a decision as to what to do with it, Thor gave up and instead shifted his weight downwards. Loki found himself spreading his legs in response, inviting him to lean further in. Something very hard briefly brushed against his inner thigh before Thor leaned further back, his breathing heavier than ever, and moved onto an one-handed effort to unlace his own trousers. On this, he succeeded.  
  
Loki stared. He had already known Thor's cock to be an impressive specimen, from surreptitious glances at the baths and adolescent size comparisons, but it looked different, downright silence-inspiring, jutting heavily in the dark. He barely noticed as Thor began fumbling with his trousers in turn, till with a sudden jerk he managed to tug them from his hips, peeling them down to his thighs before leaving them alone.  
  
Loki shivered as Thor leaned over to work on his robe once more. He felt exposed, more so than he imagined he would have felt fully undressed, and not in an at all enjoyable way. He was suddenly very aware that though it was night, they were in a public place where guards making rounds might well spot them, and that it was indeed his brother's hand clasped around his wrist, his brother's bare skin against his, his brother's hard cock resting against his hip in anticipation of... what, precisely?  
  
It also occurred to him he had told Thor to free him, and he hadn't.  
  
"Thor." He bucked his hips to dislodge him, or else to provoke him back into awareness. "Let go of me."  
  
Thor's hand paused where he was still attempting to undo the clasp on his robe. He gave Loki a long, bleary look, then yanked hard. With a deafening rip, the heavy leather around the clasp tore like it was nothing but gossamer.  
  
Loki froze. At any other time, he would have foremost been outraged at Thor's disregard for his personal property, but under the circumstances, his brother's prodigious strength combined with his failure to understand basic commands gained a fresh, alarming meaning.  
  
"Thor?" He set his misgivings aside and tried again, with worse results: Thor took the upward thrust and the lack of resistance as an invitation to pull the ruined robe off his shoulder, and, after several failed attempts to negotiate with the straps on his sleeves, pawed instead at the front of his tunic. He ripped through the material with ease till thwarted by metal, then, apparently satisfied with his handiwork, lowered himself back onto his chest, murmuring soft words while his hand quested downwards. Not even renewed struggling appeared to shake him from the illusion that Loki remained willing.  
  
Loki kept thrashing under him regardless, halting only when Thor's fingers curled around his cock. Though ungainly, the touch sent sparks up his spine. Thor took a moment to languidly stroke him, gentler than he had any right to be, breathing with more restraint at each passing exhale.  
  
It was the best opportunity Loki was going to get. "Thor, please. I don't like this." He did his best to sound small and helpless; though thoughtless, Thor had always been too soft-hearted to keep fighting when he believed he was genuinely hurting him. Even keeping that in mind, he despised just how easily the act came to life.  
  
Thor's hand paused, and he raised his gaze to give Loki another blank look. There was something akin to concern in his drug-dimmed eyes, but before Loki could take advantage of it, he closed them entirely and continued sliding his hand up and down Loki's shaft with renewed vigour for pleasure and soreness alike. Though it was too dark to be absolutely certain, Loki thought he recognised the words he was mouthing as yet another love confession.  
  
Well. If not by words, then by guile.  
  
Focusing, Loki conjured up a vision of the first thing that came to his mind. A double of Thor emerged out of thin air, standing behind them with its back against the wall. Something wasn't right with the illusion — the outlines were fuzzy and the image jittery — but it would do. Or rather, it would do if Thor deigned to notice that he suddenly had an identical twin standing immediately behind him.  
  
"Thor!" He pushed his side off the floor. In response, the grip on his wrist became a vise. He hissed and pointed at the illusion regardless. "Look!"  
  
The pressure on his arm slackened in equal measure to the one on his body as Thor rose to look over his shoulder. His bafflement wouldn't last long, but a moment was all Loki needed: he snatched his legs free from beneath him and backed away. Standing up was impossible with his trousers around his thighs, and so he attempted to pull them back in place while crawling to create more distance between himself and Thor.  
  
Before he managed it, a powerful hand landed on the side of his head and slammed him back to the floor.  
  
Stunned, he looked up to see Thor climbing back on top of him. The illusion had already faded, but that he had expected. What he hadn't expected was the look of teary panic on his brother's face.  
  
"Don't go," he begged, all the while forcing more weight on him. "Please don't go."  
  
Loki was too amazed to even struggle. "Why shouldn't I?"  
  
"Don't go." Rough hands clawed at his upper arms as Thor's legs locked around his, but his attention was squarely on Thor's mournful expression and the tears glittering in the corners of his black eyes. "I don't want to lose you."  
  
And to think he had only used three drops of the potion! Who was that the appropriate dosage for, an entire gang of frost giants?  
  
In any case, if these were the kinds of fears Thor held locked in his heart, Loki could yet get him to calm down and release him. "What makes you think you will? You know as well as I do that nothing ever truly changes in Asgard." It rarely took him as much effort to fake a smile as it did then, but he managed it in the end. "Everything will be fine. I promise."  
  
Thor nodded ponderously, his expression slackening. "I don't want anything to change."  
  
Loki would have liked to point out that it would soon be a little late for that, but as Thor chose that exact moment to fall upon him again, his attention quickly shifted to wriggling away from his embrace. If anything, fighting back was harder now than when he had been lying on his back, especially with Thor sobbing directly into his ear, his actions controlled by a desperate need which he didn't understand Loki couldn't possibly fulfill.  
  
He fought on, his own desperation granting him strength, but the next thing he knew, he found himself shoved onto his stomach. There was a sickening crunch as his nose struck the hard floor, blossoming with pain, and an involuntary gasp of shock escaped his lips. Either that or some last remaining strand of sense made Thor relent, but only enough for him to turn his head sideways, the death grip on his skull pushing ever downwards while he tried to gauge whether he was injured or merely hurt.  
  
Thor noticed no affliction. He wrapped his arm around Loki's stomach and pulled his lower body upwards as though trying to haul him onto his lap, then shifted aside the intervening garments. Soon after, there was the unmistakable push of a firm cock against his bare thigh, its hot head slick with precome and far, far too big.  
  
All breath escaped Loki as he blinked at the darkness with the one eye not pressed against the floor, seeing nothing but his own disarrayed hair and a section of featureless wall. Oh, please, Norns, surely Thor couldn't actually be trying to do what he thought he was?  
  
Fingers dug into his hip, painful enough to jolt him to an awareness that no Norn was likely to help him, and it was with a numb horror that he greeted the pressure at his hole as after some ineffective thrusting against his backside, Thor finally found his mark.  
  
"Thor, don't." His voice came out thick and barely like his own. He tried to twist away, but it was little use with his head pinned down as it was: it only made Thor climb more securely on top of him, and, finally and all too soon, push inside.  
  
Or rather, attempt to push inside.  
  
Stymied by the resistance of Loki's tensed up body, Thor kept trying to force himself inside all the same, grinding ever harder in a redoubled effort to mount him. The head of his cock caught up against the rim, and for several terrifying heartbeats, Loki was certain he would push through and tear him in half, but after a few more futile thrusts, Thor backed away. Based on the frustrated sob ringing at the base of his ear, he too had seen the problem with his plan.  
  
Before Loki managed more than a single shaky exhale, his mind racing to come up with the best way to ensure his release, the grip on his hip went from unyielding to bone-bruising. It was through willpower alone that he managed to keep from crying out as the throbbing head returned, only to remain still against his thigh. The hand holding his face to the floor relented and disappeared.  
  
His relief didn't last for long. He was still scrambling upwards and had only managed a precarious balance when Thor, still firmly clutching onto him, shifted his hands downwards. The all too intimate touch was joined by another as he lined his shaft up between his buttocks, so strange Loki couldn't help but freeze. When he recovered the moment later, Thor was pushing his cheeks together around his length, and began rocking back and forth into the resulting cleft with the mindlessness of a rutting animal.  
  
Knocked back down by the first abrupt thrust, Loki lay stunned in place. The sensation wasn't wholly unpleasant, and certainly worlds better than what would have awaited him had Thor not relented, but the cold consolation soon ebbed away, replaced by profound disgust. It was obvious that for all his words of love, Thor cared of nothing but slaking his lust. Why else would Loki be where he was, held down and ravaged with no thought to his dignity or comfort, worse yet for the humiliating manner in which his body was being used?  
  
"Stop. I mean it." When no response was forthcoming, he grit his teeth and attempted to crawl away. No such luck. Thor simply sank his fingers deeper into his flesh as his thrusting grew faster and sloppier, and he was left with little choice but to fight for his balance as he was pushed and pulled like a puppet. The skin between his cheeks grew slicker with each movement, but based on his eager, panting breaths, Thor hadn't cared about the friction in the first place.

It wasn't long after when Thor tensed and spent himself between his buttocks. He collapsed on top of him, leaving them together in a crumpled heap on the floor.  
  
Loki's eyes burned as he tried to subside the shudders coursing through his body, doing his best not to think of the hot seed trickling down his thighs. At least it was over. At least he could now go to his rooms, leave Thor behind, and plot the kind of revenge which would ensure he no longer had hands with which to touch him ever again.  
  
Thor, meanwhile, was in no rush to get up. He lay on top of him with heavy lids, like he would have been happy to fall asleep right there and then, absent-mindedly caressing Loki's arm and murmuring something that in spite of their proximity made no sense.  
  
"Let me go," he finally mumbled when the lumbering oaf still wouldn't move, satisfied with how level he managed to keep his voice despite the metal and bile flowing into his mouth. "You have had your fun."  
  
Thor made a soothing, cooing noise that made him see red. It had probably been words, but they were so heavily slurred he doubted even Thor himself would have understood them.  
  
"I said let me go!" He managed to extract one shoulder and fought to free the other, forcing down his rising panic. "Can't you hear me?"  
  
Evidently Thor couldn't, as he responded to the struggles with another indistinct murmur before clinging on tighter. To his horror, Loki felt his spent cock, which had lain slack between them, give a twitch as it began firming up again, impossibly fast. Thor nuzzled against the back of his neck and mumbled more incomprehensible words as his hand slipped down to his thigh.  
  
"Thor! Stop! I said no!"  
  
The potion had to be an aphrodisiac, he realised, and a powerful one at that. He was going to find whoever had jotted the instructions down without mentioning the fact and twist their arms into so many knots even the trunk of Yggdrasil would be left to shame.  
  
That wasn't what he thought in the heat of the moment, however. In the moment, he instead bent his upper body towards Thor, placed a hand on his chest right where his armour parted, and allowed the magic flowing through him manifest in whatever way it found fit.  
  
He had anticipated ice, but what came out was fire, searing white flames which burned his palm as they blazed out of it. He almost welcomed the sensation as he directed them at Thor.  
  
As soon as the flames touched him, Thor jerked away like an animal startled by biting prey, soon escaping Loki's fingers. His breath hitched in shock. His hand slowly reached towards where his breastplate blistered before shying away.  
  
Loki braced himself, ready to strike again.  
  
It proved unnecessary. Thor remained frozen in place, blinking as though he had just woken up. His eyes slowly focused on Loki, and widened as though they were beholding him for the very first time.  
  
"No," he mumbled, more to himself than to Loki though his eyes remained screwed on his. "No."  
  
And then, like a toppled tree, he collapsed back on top of Loki.  
  
Loki stilled at the impact. When Thor didn't stir, he experimentally pushed his shoulder off of his. The rest of the dead weight was harder to shift, but in a moment's time he managed to wriggle free.  
  
Immediately, he backed away still he was pressed against the wall, fighting to catch his breath. After he was satisfied his brother was dead to the world, he focused on himself, heart pounding as he forced his hands to obey.  
  
As soon as he pulled his trousers up he knew it had been a mistake — the slimy sensation grew tenfold, like it was permanently tattooed to his skin — but what was done was done. He gave his nose a light touch to find it sore and still trickling blood, but mostly intact. He glared at his red-dyed fingers, then eyed the trail of splatters he now realised he had left behind.  
  
A kind of cold horror spread through him till he was numb with it. One thing was clear: to escape, he had to get rid of all the evidence. He had to focus and think of which spells would do the deed the fastest...  
  
He heard fast approaching footsteps.  
  
He thought to make himself invisible, but it was too late: as soon as he thought of it, Sif rushed from behind the corner, fully dressed and wielding her new blade.  
  
"What is—" Her loud words tapered out at once as she halted. She stared first at Loki, then at Thor, then at Loki again, eyes widening as if she had just seen an entire fleet of flying giants. Finally, she lowered her weapon and disappeared back into her rooms without ever finishing her question.  
  
She returned before Loki had time to do more than stare at where she had been, and this time walked over to him, with cautious steps and a pinched, pained expression.  
  
"Here." She jabbed her hand forward. "For your..."  
  
She didn't finish this statement, either.  
  
Loki stared at the proffered cloth rag, searching for some hidden meaning to it. Surely she knew he didn't actually need it.  
  
He took it regardless.


	3. Embers

It took little effort for the two of them to carry Thor to his rooms, and as far as Sif could tell, they had done so undetected. A fortunate thing, that. The situation was baffling enough without additional people mixed into it.  
  
After she had pushed the door shut behind them, they entered the bedchamber and hoisted Thor onto his bed. He turned to his side at once and let out a soft snore, clutching unconsciously onto the beddings, the black mark on his breastplate obscured by the shadows.  
  
She stepped forward. "I should—"  
  
"I will." Loki clambered onto the bed. He hesitated long enough that she nearly moved to take his place, then laid his hands on Thor.  
  
Whether he actually healed the burn wound on Thor's chest or simply hid it, it took next to no time. Following a moment of consideration, he shrugged and unstrapped the damaged armour, turning Thor with careful but not exactly gentle movements to remove it from his frame.  
  
"Can you fix it?" Sif whispered. Working with enchanted armour was a specialised skill which she didn't believe Loki, for all his admittedly considerable talent in sorcery, possessed.  
  
Without response, Loki swept his palm over the material. When she next saw the damaged spot, it was speckless. An illusion rather than a more permanent solution, if she was any judge of it, but it did the trick.  
  
Loki clearly agreed. He tossed the armour next to Thor and retreated from the bed, backing away till he was by Sif's side. After a pause, he twisted his hand in a gesture which looked like another spell, but it took no obvious effect. She wondered if it was merely an affectation of some kind.  
  
Not for long, however. Now that the most pressing issues were dealt with and a silence fell between them, she returned to trying to understand what she had witnessed.  
  
Following the feast, she had pushed her exhaustion aside and settled down to write a letter to her family, figuring she wouldn't have time the following day. Hence, she had been fully awake to hear the brothers stumbling down the corridor, as subtle and inconspicuous as an army of rampaging fire giants. She had crept to her door and cracked it open, listening to see if they would pass, wondering all the while what possible business they could have in that wing of the palace so late at night.  
  
When she had heard their hushed words and the ensuing tumult, she had scarcely been able to believe Loki would stoop to such a tasteless joke, let alone that Thor would ever be drunk enough to agree to it. In fact, she had been willing to bet everything she was hearing was faked one way or another, and that it was likely Loki alone in the corridor, stifling his laughter and possibly even waiting to stab her the moment she rushed out through the door. She had had no desire to indulge him.  
  
She had returned to her writing, certain he would give up as long as she ignored him. Only, it had kept going. And going. By the time she could no longer concentrate on a single word before her, Loki had been pleading, his stark terror ringing too genuine to ignore.  
  
She had armed herself, just in case, but by the time she had burst into the corridor, it was already over; Thor lay face down on the floor, either unconscious or asleep, while Loki sat curled up against the wall, clutching his torn clothes. He had stared up at her like she was a phantom, struggling to contain the tears already streaming down his face.  
  
While he had mopped himself up, she had forced herself to ask, more bluntly than she had meant to, if he had any less visible injuries which might require a healer's attention. He had responded first with confusion, then an absent-minded headshake. A relief, though it was already more detail than she cared to have. The general picture was plenty, especially once she had touched the prone Thor and confirmed he was not some especially crafty illusion, but the genuine crown prince.  
  
She shifted her focus from her memories to the real Loki next to her. He in turn stared at Thor as though expecting him to wake up at any moment, his earlier distress long since masked by a crafted blankness. It was lacking in comparison to his usual inscrutability — disbelief, unease, and remnants of fear all mingled in his eyes — and while he had successfully rid himself of most of the blood, there were still flecks of it near his exposed collarbone.  
  
No. As much as she would have wished to do so, she couldn't dismiss his behaviour as an act. He had been treated descipably that night, and the signs pointed to one of her dearest friends as the culprit.  
  
It was too much. It was impossible to reconcile the Thor she knew — lacking restraint, granted, and rarely thinking through the consequences of his actions, but a great warrior and a better person, a wonderful friend and someone she had always been proud to stand on the side of on any battlefield — with a Thor capable of assaulting anyone in such a manner, let alone his own brother. He had been drunk, hopelessly so, but even then...  
  
"Loki..." she began. He appeared so diminished a part of her wished to put an arm around his shoulders, a gesture she wouldn't have dreamt of an hour prior. "I am so sorry."  
  
Loki's shoulders stiffened. When he turned towards Sif as though he only then recalled she was present, there was something bestial behind his eyes. "For what?"  
  
"I should have intervened sooner, only I thought..." She shook her head. Did it matter? "Had I acted sooner I might have spared you this—"  
  
"Humiliation?"  
  
The word was as sharp as a freshly honed blade and spat out with such venom Sif instinctively narrowed her eyes. The anger was understandable given the circumstances, but she didn't care at all to be its target. "That is not what I meant to say. Only, had I known what was happening—"  
  
"Nothing happened," Loki interrupted. He was obviously attempting to assume direct control of the narrative, as if the damaged robe and the reddening bruises on his neck weren't a constant reminder that something had very much happened. "This is between him and I, and the last thing I require is your uninformed and unnecessary pity."  
  
Not that she had expected gratitude, but still. "I'm trying to help you."  
  
"Did I ask for your help?" Loki folded his arms and let out a short, harsh chuckle that bore as much resemblance to genuine amusement as a pierced lung did to sound breathing. "I already told you nothing happened."  
  
On one hand, Sif understood where he was coming from, even if his imperious tone grated on her nerves. On the other, the speed at which he was trying to dismiss the incident made alarm bells sound in her mind. Loki was known as a liesmith for good reason, and if the haughty, unconcerned expression he was putting on wasn't utterly false, she was a two-headed dwarf. Surely he knew that it wouldn't have convinced even a toddler.  
  
Unless it was to cover up for something else entirely.  
  
"Fine. I shall not speak of it." She took a deep breath. "I do have a question, however."  
  
Loki scoffed. It looked as though acting acerbic had made him feel better: already he seemed much more like his normal insufferable self. "I cannot precisely stop you from asking."  
  
"Why were you in that corridor in the first place?"  
  
"I was conducting him to his rooms. From the way he was walking, I feared he would end up face first in a fountain if left unattended."    
  
"My rooms are in the exact opposite direction from his." Before he could attempt some banal excuse about forgetting the layout of the building he had lived in for his entire life, Sif refreshed her memories on what had first attracted her attention. "When I heard your approach, I came to the door. You said..."  
  
The muddled recollection of sound hardened her heart. "You said _I didn't think you liked her that much._ "  
  
"Am I not allowed to discuss women with my brother?"  
  
The words rang on deaf ears. Sif had faced enough trickery to suspect it now, and as she put everything she knew together, from Thor's outrageous behaviour to Loki's hasty desire to set it all aside when he normally wouldn't ignore so much as a hangnail, to the fact they had been right by her door for no discernible reason...  
  
"If you must know—" Loki began, perhaps sensing the shifting atmosphere, but that was as far as he made it.  
  
"You set this up!" Sif hissed, only her awareness of the sleeping Thor mere feet away keeping her from exploding. "You knew he was out of his senses and were luring him over to me, and for what?" She glanced at the slumbering Thor again, feeling suddenly ill. "Were you planning on having him assault me, instead?"  
  
"You're a fool," Loki snapped back. "Naturally I wasn't anticipating anything like this."  
  
"And what did you anticipate, exactly?" When Loki had no immediate response, Sif continued, fury rising as she considered just how far back his scheme might have gone. "Did you get him in this state in the first place? Did you cast a spell on him? Did you drug him?"  
  
Loki looked aside. Instead of further anger, the words that came out were cold and quiet and above all, very tired. "Are you quite done? You saw for yourself how drunk he was. Besides," a small, bitter smirk utterly unlike a real smile came and went, "I'm hardly likely to charm him to do what he did to me tonight."  
  
It wasn't a real answer, but the muted, resigned reference to what had passed so soon after his denial of it hurt her heart, and though she yet simmered, she had to wonder if she wasn't simply trying to make excuses for Thor's actions. She couldn't allow herself to stoop so low.  
  
"Very well," she said, speaking slowly so her voice wouldn't belie her composure. "Since that it what you wish, I shall not speak of this to anyone not currently present. However, if I find any further reason to suspect you are somehow behind this, I will no longer hold my peace."  
  
"How kind of you." Loki turned away, but the twinge of guilt Sif felt at the sight was hardly enough for her to rescind her words. "Is that all?"  
  
"That is all. I intend to be worthy of my word."  
  
"Indeed." His previous exhaustion had crept back into his voice. "If you will excuse me."  
  
Sif followed him out of the room and watched him vanish into the darkness. The cold politeness, often more dangerous than any number of nasty insults, had failed to make her shudder even once. Now, finally alone, she shivered.  
  
What next? She couldn't let a crime so severe simply lie, not even if she had to keep quiet of it. The mere thought Thor might have done anything so vile under any circumstances still seemed ludicrous, but she had no concrete proof he hadn't, and plenty to suggest he had.  
  
She would have to speak with him. Then, she could be certain of his innocence, that he too was a victim in this situation, and if not — she shook her head — allowing for the impossibility that he had in fact acted in a drunken stupor independent of any manipulation, didn't she owe it to her friend to at least verify that before deciding on how to proceed?  
  
The longer she stood alone in the dark corridor, the more she felt she couldn't dismiss the possibility that despite her earlier conviction, it had all been an exceptionally life-like act and that Loki had played her like a fiddle. She could even think of a motive: perhaps he actually expected her to expose the events of the night and so send the royal house into a turmoil, one very likely to soil Thor's reputation for good at the expense of Loki's own.  
  
She frowned at the thought. Surely not even Loki was _that_ depraved.  
  
All her theories were starting to blur together, and she was very aware of how late the hour grew. She would understand the situation better after some sleep. She could hardly do anything about it before morning, in any case.  
  
Even with that in mind, she couldn't but wonder as she slouched towards her rooms if Loki would find rest that night.

 

* * *

  
  
Thor woke to sunlight blaring straight past the open curtains, and his immediate instinct was to go back to sleep. His head felt as though he had been in a fist fight with a frost giant and lost.  
  
He covered his face with his arm, trying to block out the light, savouring the what little comfort he could find from the bed beneath him. There was further soreness on his chest, the source of which he couldn't remember. Had he really wound up in fight? Whatever the case, it had clearly been a night to remember.  
  
It was a pity he didn't.  
  
At length, he noticed he was still dressed. He was hardly ever too drunk to untangle himself from his clothes before collapsing on his bed, so either he had passed out as soon as he had entered the room, or someone else had brought him over. Curious. At least whoever was responsible for the deed had had enough sense left to unbuckle his armour first.  
  
He pushed himself upright, his limbs stiff but functional, reaching for his trousers on the floor out of habit before recalling he was still wearing them. He began paying closer attention to the tenderness just beneath his collarbone, which at a touch sparked into burning pain as though someone had deposited an ember beneath his skin. There were no other signs of injury, but as he remained upright, he noticed his heart was beating strangely, too loud and hasty for such a leisurely moment. Just what had he been up to?  
  
He strapped the armour back on as he gathered his fragmented memories, ignoring the growing ache in his chest. Toasts had been made, as was their wont. He recalled bouts of friendly arm-wrestling and snatches of song, and the speed at which Volstagg had tucked his third boar for the night. The rest was vague and mixed together, like ripples on the surface of a disturbed pond. A vision of the night sky caught through an open window, a shoulder shoring him up — Loki's, the pale face wreathed by long black hair unmistakable even in the dimmest of recollections — and a sense of all-encompassing lust for life, more fire than sentiment, a searing love edged with doubts.  
  
Focusing further, he concluded everything he remembered corresponded to a night of cheerful celebration, but that there was something raw and unpleasant in the vast gaps he couldn't quite fill. He faintly recalled telling someone he loved them, but there had also been a struggle, and a sense of utter desperation he couldn't explain any more than his muddled memory of being dragged along like a puppet on a string. Had Loki pulled him into some kind of a dangerous scheme after he had been blind drunk? Or had they tested their mettle by seeing who could best handle burning logs without immolating themselves?  
  
One thing was obvious: he would find more answers outside than he would idling at his bedside. Besides, he was ravenous.  
  
A growing disquiet clung to him as he strode through the hallways, like a whispering ghost.


	4. Simmering

He felt none the wiser by the time he made it to the breakfast table, but his friends' cheery greetings helped dispel his shadowy mood. All but for Volstagg, who looked slightly ill and had only piled his plate slightly higher than the rest, were already digging into their meals with great relish.  
  
"Do we have plans for today?" Fandral asked after Thor sat down and helped himself to some fruit. From the wobbliness of his voice, his tankard contained more than water.  
  
"Not that I know of." Thor chewed slowly, feeling rejuvenated after just a few bites of the apple. The inexplicable chest pain remained, but by then he was fully convinced it was nothing to make a fuss over. "Did you have something in mind?"  
  
"I would like to test my speed against Lady Sif's new blade," said Hogun with a hint of a smile.  
  
Lady Sif smiled back. "I would like that, too."  
  
Volstagg, who sat right next to her, groaned and buried his face on the table. "Do not speak so loudly. I beg of you."  
  
She turned towards him with a frown. "How can someone with your constitution have a bad head for drink?"  
  
Volstagg raised a feeble hand towards the ceiling. "A curse from the Norns, no doubt."  
  
As they spoke, Thor's attention went to a small vial of oil on the board, tucked between the meats and the bread. He reached for in it triumph, only to realise he had no need for it.  
  
Ignoring the compulsion, he dropped his hand and looked around. Wasn't this the exact kind of occasion when his brother ought to swan over, immaculately groomed despite the early hour, flaunting his good health? "Where is Loki?"  
  
Volstagg managed to raise his head long enough to answer. "Asleep, perhaps?"  
  
Fandral shrugged and poured more wine for himself. "He likely thinks his company too good for the likes of us."  
  
Hogun nodded absent-mindedly, to where it was impossible to tell which comment he agreed with.  
  
Lady Sif, however, had a more pronounced reaction. She tensed abruptly, and though she said nothing and focused on emptying her goblet, her shoulders remained raised. Thor stared at her, hoping for some explanation, and received little more than a sharp glance, looking not at his eyes but at his forehead. Had Loki doodled childish runes on his face while he slumbered, a prank so ancient it ought to have been retired by now? Surely not.  
  
He finished the meal, confident the Warriors Three would have already brought up any illicit facial markings, then waved at them to go ahead, ignoring the bemused look Fandral shot at him.  
  
As he had expected, Lady Sif waited by the door. They left the room together and walked towards the nearest garden, as though they had planned it in advance.  
  
"Did you find your way to you room safely last night?" It was a meaningless question, one meant only to break the silence. Something strange was in the air, and as he had little idea what it could be, he thought it better to prompt her to begin.  
  
As expected, Lady Sif frowned. "Of course." Despite the dismissive tone, there was something taut about her expression, something that didn't vanish as she turned to once again peer at Thor like he had somehow swapped faces with another man who she was now trying to recognise. "Are you well?"  
  
Surely he didn't look as unwell as Volstagg had. "As well as I have ever been." Apart from the stinging spot under his collarbone and his violently beating heart, but those were such minor ailments they were not worth the mention.  
  
Lady Sif nodded, but her frown showed no signs of smoothing out. "How much do you remember from last night?"  
  
"Most of the evening. Not much of the night itself." At this point, he could guess a likely reason for her apprehension. "If I did something to hurt you, I apologise."  
  
"You didn't." And yet, the frown remained.  
  
"Was it something merely foolish, then?"  
  
She suddenly found the nearest window to be of the utmost fascination. "I wouldn't say that, either."  
  
"In other words, I did do something."  
  
She turned back towards him. She opened her mouth, clearly intent on speaking her mind, but ultimately closed it before a single word came out.  
  
"Thor," she finally said, with a distinctly sombre mood. "I wish you to know that no matter what, I think of you as a good friend."  
  
"And I of you, Sif." Thor gave her his brightest, friendliest smile, hoping it would disperse whatever cloud was clinging onto her thoughts, waiting for the inevitable _however_ to follow.  
  
Only, it didn't. After another pregnant pause, Lady Sif sighed like a crestfallen warrior who had yielded when their opponent had been moments away from collapsing. "We should go join the others."  
  
Thor smiled again, still doing his best to be encouraging. "You go ahead. I shall go see if Loki will come with us."  
  
Lady Sif's eyes followed him down the entire length of the hallway, as though trying to burn through his skull with her gaze alone.

 

* * *

 

Ever since childhood, Thor had believed there was rarely a reason to knock before entering Loki's rooms. He was alone with this stance, but it had served him just fine. If his brother didn't wish to be disturbed, he either kept the door firmly locked, or, as Thor had more than once discovered, rigged it to shower the interloper with ice, and on one memorable occasion, to toss a spear right at the intruder's feet.  
  
Making a bet in favour of ice, Thor swung the door open, and, finding his feet unpierced and his shoulders free of frost, showed himself in. "Loki?"  
  
No answer. He walked further in, scanning across the bookshelf and the odd trinkets in the sunny room, so bright now that Loki wasn't keeping his curtains half shut. His eyes halted at the old green-cushioned chair by the corner adjacent to the sleeping chambers.  
  
"Loki."  
  
This time, his voice was heard. His brother jerked his head up from the crook of his arm like bird startled from its sleep. The book that had rested on his lap nearly fell on the floor, but he managed to catch it just before it slipped from his knees. He then turned to blink at Thor. "What?"  
  
"I'm sorry, I didn't know you were—" Thor managed only one step closer before the rest of the sentence died on his lips.  
  
Loki looked devastated. There were dark circles around his eyes, which looked worse than ever against the sickly cast to his skin, all framed by his hair hanging limply around his face. Those alone were cause for concern, but there was in addition a haunted quality to his gaze which made Thor's stomach lurch.  
  
He stared. "Are you ill, brother?"  
  
Loki straightened up, and, likely realising what a mess he looked like, pushed his hair behind his ears. It didn't improve matters much. "Not at all. I must have fallen asleep while studying the manuscript."  
  
Thor glanced at the manuscript, its writing illegible at the distance. "Is that the one from Alfheim?"  
  
"Yes. It has proven more fascinating than I first thought." Loki shrugged. "I wasn't yet tired when I retired for the night, so I thought to give it another glance. And here we are."  
  
It was a reasonable explanation. Thor also found it very odd. "When did you change your clothes?"  
  
Loki looked down as though he had only noticed what he was wearing himself. The robes were similar in hue and cut to what he had worn the day before, but the tunic had a much higher collar. "Before I began to read. Why? Did Father declare a law against unauthorised garment changes while I wasn't looking?"  
  
His tone was flippant, but while Thor would have liked to take him by his word, there was something off about it he couldn't put his finger on that kept him on edge.  
  
"Loki." He looked around, searching for the matching chair he knew had to be somewhere nearby, and found it turned towards the wall. He pulled it over and sat opposite of his brother, close enough he could now make out the upside-down runes in the book. "If you truly wish to keep your secrets, I will leave you be, but I would rather you not lie to me when something is obviously wrong. You know I will help you if I can."  
  
Loki said nothing. His expression reminded Thor of Lady Sif, and if he hadn't already suspected that whatever was making both of them act so strangely around him was connected, this would have cinched it.  
  
As the silence stretched on, it was clear Thor wasn't going to find out what was wrong simply by asking. All the same, he decided to give it one last stab. "If someone has harmed you, you only have to say the word."  
  
At that, Loki looked up, meeting his eyes for the first time. "What would you do?"  
  
His hand flung to Mjölnir. "So, there is someone."  
  
"I was being hypothetical. Even if there were someone, would you expect me to cower behind your back rather than handle the matter myself?"  
  
The words rang true. Thor relaxed his arm. "Then what it is?"

"Nothing. It's all as I said."

Dead silence followed. Rather than vexed, however, Thor only grew more worried. He had tried to ignore it so far, but ever since he had entered the room, there had been a kind of charge in the air, like static electricity. No doubt Loki sensed it too, hence his awkward demeanour.  
  
"There is no need to stare at me so. I already told you I'm fine." Loki said after a long while had passed. Some of his normal peevishness had returned to his voice, making Thor take note of just how flat he had sounded till then.  
  
It was at that point that he saw it. "There is something on your lip."  
  
Loki paused, then wiped his fingers across his mouth with the air of a cat batting at a fly. "Ink from the manuscript, no doubt. Wonderful."  
  
"It's still there." It wasn't something Thor would have paid even the slightest bit of attention to under most circumstances, but he leaned forward, rising from his chair. "Here, I will—"  
  
Before either of them said another word, he cupped Loki's chin and tilted it upwards.  
  
He blinked.  
  
"It's not ink." The discolouration was a bruise, small but unmistakable. "How did you receive this?"  
  
Loki said nothing. As soon as Thor's fingers had grazed his skin, his brother had gone rigidly still, like a hare caught in a snare. He stared up with eyes wide around the edges, barely breathing.  
  
Thor stared back, baffled, his ears filling with static as the charge in the air grew audible. He didn't know he long he remained fixed in place, but after a moment, he realised he had brushed his thumb across the bruise without any awareness of what he was doing.  
  
He also saw that he had been slowly leaning forward, like an incoming tide, and that Loki's lips were mere inches away from his own.  
  
He jerked back, relinquishing Loki's chin and retreating back to his chair and past it. His heartbeat, already loud when he entered the room, now more resembled a thunderclap.  
  
"I will leave you be," he managed, praying Loki hadn't noticed what he had very nearly done.  
  
Loki nodded. He had barely moved even after Thor had let him go. "It's nothing, really. I must have bitten myself in my sleep."  
  
It was practically never as blatant that he was lying as it was then, but Thor wasn't about to stay and judge. He had to get away and fast. "I will see you later."  
  
Without waiting for a proper response, he fled, trying his hardest to keep his back straight and his gait nonchalant, likely failing badly at both.  
  
He closed the door behind him, his veins burning with a nervous energy thathad to be unleashed one way or another if he didn't wish to burst. As he hurried back to his own rooms, it began to take a very familiar shape.  
  
Slamming the door shut behind him, he untucked himself and stared at his cock in disbelief. He was already half hard.  
  
In the end, despite his growing shame, he took matters in hand.

 

* * *

 

  
Sleep had always come naturally to Thor. It took no more than a relatively flat surface to lie on, and he was out like a light to wake up the following morning refreshed and ready to face any threats upon Asgard.  
  
It was thus with a distinct sense of defeat that he rolled out of his bed in the middle of the night without having caught a wink of sleep. He pulled his clothes back on and stumbled out of his rooms in search for fresh air, hoping it soothe his troubled mind.

The familiar garden looked transformed in the twilight: the trees growing at its edges were like the shadows of giants, and even the most delicate flowers looked as though they were etched from stone. Looking to his right, Thor could just barely make out the Bifrost behind one of Asgard's numerous towers, its glimmering rainbow ever unchanging. He wondered if Heimdall was watching him, or if his attention was fully occupied by other worlds.  
  
He walked to the nearest bench, its white marble cooled by the night air, and sat down, resting his hands on his lap.  
  
He had never made self-reflection into a habit. He trusted his instincts to guide him, and till then, no incident in his life had given him reason to doubt himself. Now, however, he began to think.  
  
It wasn't long till he came to a conclusion. The reason it took any time at all was because the truth was ugly and not something he wished to admit even to himself, but as soon as it crossed his mind, he knew there was no point in stalling.  
  
He loved Loki, and not simply as a brother should. In fact, he loved him in the exact manner a brother shouldn't.  
  
He raised his hands and massaged his temples. How long had he felt this way without being aware of it himself? How many times had he caught himself staring at Loki and thought what a charming, deliberate way of moving he had, or felt his heart flicker at the sudden spark in his eyes when he thought he was being clever? He had always told himself none of it was unlike what others said of their dearest siblings, but he now saw that in his case, there had always been something far deeper and sinister bubbling underneath healthy fondness.  
  
Why these vague and subconscious feelings had suddenly clawed their way to the surface, he had no idea, but it didn't matter. He had felt it earlier while in his rooms, and afterwards when he had tried to distract himself with his friends whenever his mind drifted: they were simply there, as certain as the stars and galaxies above and burning roughly as brightly to boot. Even now, thinking of Loki threatened to rekindle some highly specific thoughts which would have made him blush if he hadn't been alone.  
  
Over the evening, his heartbeat had relaxed to its normal, ponderous rhythm, but it rose once more as he realised he might have already made some kind of a drunken pass at Loki the previous night. Could he have? It would explain the bruise, at least, and why he remembered confessing his love to someone. It would also explain why both Loki and Lady Sif, with the assumption she had witnessed the incident, had been unwilling to speak up. It wasn't an easy subject to broach, after all.  
  
He looked up at the night sky. It was useless to sit and mope. There was only one thing to do: he would have to keep away from Loki till he could guarantee that he could control himself around him. He last thing he wanted was to hurt his brother in any way, let alone with something as unnatural as his feelings for him.  
  
He vowed to himself to do just that, there underneath the stars, and finally felt some relief. He would have to think of it not so much as love as another opponent to overcome. Then he could defeat it, as surely as his name was Thor Odinson.  
  
Despite his conviction, when he returned to bed and finally fell asleep, his dreams were disturbed by phantom images of limbs and willing flesh.


	5. Searing

Thor evaded Hogun's strike with a side-stepping lunge. He flashed him a quick smile before making his counter-attack, which Hogun had no trouble blocking with the head of his morning star. As one man, they split apart and took a moment to circle the ground.  
  
Thor took the opportunity to breathe, relishing his quickening pulse and the familiar excitement of combat. The fact they were only sparring didn't matter to his body, which had been readily fooled into distracting his mind from its current obsession.  
  
Hogun took another side-step, carefully considering his next attack. From the sidelines, Volstagg hooted a comment Thor didn't quite catch.  
  
His first instinct after making his vow had been to travel to another world till things cooled off, but it had proven unnecessary. As far as he could tell, Loki was avoiding him as much as he was avoiding Loki, and while that likely meant his brother knew something about his feelings, it did make it easier to assuage his fears.  
  
Tired of waiting, he lunged forward. He was in his element, and even with the obvious restriction of limiting the strength of his blows, the mere act of striking and avoiding Hogun's swift and precise counter-attacks made him feel more like himself again.  
  
A vision from his dreams chose that exact moment to flash before his eyes.  
  
His hesitation couldn't have lasted more than tenth of a second, but a tenth a second was all it took for Hogun to use his spare hand to shove him backwards. Thor recovered in time to leap out of the way of the follow-up blow, but his heart was pounding like a miniature Mjölnir.  
  
He clenched his teeth together. He could stay away from Loki, yes, but he couldn't control his sleep, and for the past several nights, his brother had been a permanent fixture in all his dreams. Some of them were harmless: fragments of real memories spliced with adventures both mundane and fantastical. Others had a distinctly lewd slant to them, and he would wake up stiff and ashamed. Worst of all was a particularly lifelike nightmare where he ignored both his brother's pleas and his own reason and assaulted him with bestial abandon. From those, he awoke with his sheets drenched in sweat.  
  
He had just dismissed the thought when another ghost of a dream drifted to the forefront of his mind, leading him to only barely blocking Hogun's incoming strike. This one had basis in actual memory, from when he and Loki had climbed up a tree for reasons which now escaped him, and sat shoulder to shoulder gazing at the sunset.  
  
He dispelled it with a groan and charged forward. He would have to find a real battlefield soon. There, he would have no time to dwell on his dreams, and could call up thunder to wash away any lingering doubts. Anyone who saw him then would know he was still Thor, crown prince of Asgard and soon to be king.  
  
It was on that thought that the spikes of Hogun's morning star bit into his mail.  
  
He staggered back just as Hogun retreated, already raising his arms to defend himself against a counter-attack. It had been a light strike, of course, more annoying than painful, but he was surprised to receive one at all.  
  
"Nice one!" Volstagg called from one of the benches set on the edges of the training grounds. The others were less vocal in their support, but their eyes followed the proceedings intently.  
  
Hogun, meanwhile, seeing that Thor had gone still, lowered his arms. "Are you harmed?"  
  
"No." He doubted he was so much as bruised. He smiled at Hogun. "Nice one indeed."  
  
Hogun nodded and retreated a few steps, his expression unaltered by the praise.  
  
Thor took things easier for a while, testing his arm to see if it moved as it ought to, and once satisfied that it did, clashed weapons with Hogun. Though Hogun disengaged spryly enough, he was beginning to flag. It was about time to quit and let someone else test their mettle.  
  
Yet Thor pushed onward, loath to quit fighting just yet. A few more minutes, perhaps a successful blow, and then he could accept putting down Mjölnir and watching others fight, waiting to defend himself against his errant thoughts once more.  
  
He lunged ahead, missing Hogun by half an inch, and ducked to avoid retaliation. Another vision came as he straightened himself, and of the worst sort, of Loki staring up at him from the floor, bleeding and teary-eyed while invisible flames rose to consume Thor's flesh.  
  
He flinched. Still frazzled, he successfully evaded yet another strike by battle-honed instinct alone, stumbling to the left and finding himself flanking Hogun. Exhaling without meaning to, comforted by familiar circumstances, he raised Mjölnir to strike.  
  
It was then that he saw someone moving behind Hogun at the edge of the training grounds.  
  
In a heartbeat, he recognised the figure as not yet another illusion, but the flesh and blood Loki, observing the fight with a nonchalant expression as he walked by with ancient book in hand.  
  
Why he was there, Thor couldn't even begin to guess. Wrenching his gaze away, his arm moved as if by itself.  
  
The blow struck not its mark, which had been Hogun's shoulder, but half a foot to the right against his chest, with far more force than Thor had ever intended. The kind of force he would use to fell Jotuns.  
  
The world froze.  
  
Hogun staggered. His weapon fell from his loosening grip and landed on the packed earth with a thump the same moment he collapsed to his knees. He raised his hand to his chest, almost like a reflex, and remained upright for a few more breaths till he passed out face-down on the dust.  
  
By the time the others ran over, Thor had already crouched down next to him, turning him to his back as gently as urgency allowed and shedding him of his armour. Already the point of impact was blackening with dark blood pooling underneath the skin. As he turned his head to ensure he could breathe, Hogun groaned, his eyelids fluttering before falling completely still.  
  
A moment later, Lady Sif was on her knees next to him. "Hogun! Can you hear me?"  
  
Hogun groaned again. Thor thought he was trying to speak, but doubted even the Norns could make sense of the weak, indistinct sounds.  
  
Lady Sif shook her head in disbelief. "He needs a healer at once."  
  
"I will go."  
  
They both looked up to see Loki standing some feet away, as calm as if he had just informed them he was going to go read elsewhere. Without further ado, he left towards the nearest exit, not exactly rushing.  
  
"...I shall go, too," said Fandral, who with Volstagg had been standing just behind Thor. Unlike Loki, he ran.  
  
As soon as they were gone, Volstagg let out a deep sigh. "His armour will have absorbed some of the shock, but we should keep speaking to him. It will help tether him to this world."  
  
"Of course." Lady Sif continued addressing Hogun in a calm, low voice.  
  
Thor couldn't pay any attention to her words even as he strove to do so. All he could do was clasp Hogun's hand, try to ignore the ringing in his ears, and pray to the Norns his friend wouldn't have to pay for his carelessness with his life.  
 

* * *

  
  
It wasn't till Fandral, who had served as their eyes in the healers' chamber after the majority of them had been shooed out, returned to them with a weary smile that Thor's heart truly began to beat again.  
  
"They said he needs rest, but that he will be back to his feet in a few days." Fandral seated himself next to Thor on the bench. He attempted to broaden his smile as his eyes met Lady's Sif on the opposite side of the hallway, but it contracted instead. "He has always been tough."  
  
Volstagg, sitting to his right, nodded sagely with his arms folded against his expansive chest. "He has survived worse. Remember that troll who nearly tore his arm off?"  
  
Fandral's brow furrowed. "Didn't that happen to me?"  
  
Volstagg frowned back. "A different troll, perhaps."  
  
They kept chattering about various misadventures they had had over the years, their tone slowly transforming from hesitant to genuinely light-hearted as what had once been life-threatening injuries became a ready source of banter.  
  
The words, and likewise his surroundings, drifted across Thor's mind like fog. The only fixed point was Mjölnir on his lap.  
  
The healers hadn't wasted time asking how Hogun had been injured, and assuming Loki hadn't done so before slinking away, no-one had thought it important to inform them. In fact, not a word had been uttered about the accident itself, as though the wound had been spontaneously inflicted by a star fragment falling from the sky.  
  
Of course, injuries happened. Sparring with real weapons always carried a risk. Thor certainly hadn't meant to hurt anyone.  
  
And yet, he had struck the blow. He hadn't been able to control his impulses, and now Hogun lay unconscious due to his actions. The knowledge that he would ultimately be fine did little to soothe his conscience.    
  
He stood up and walked away. His friends allowed him to leave without complaint. They ought to have punched him for what he had done, or at the very berated him, but even Lady Sif's stare trailing after him was little more than solemn.  
  
He ended up aimlessly storming the hallways, ignoring all passers-by. Where he was heading, he didn't know, but he couldn't sit still any longer. There had to be something he could do to make things right, and the fact he couldn't think of anything set his teeth on edge.  
  
He was fuming by the time he took yet another corner and collided with someone. Recovering from the impact, he already guessed who it was to cap off his disaster of a day, and so it was with a glum acceptance that he faced Loki.  
  
Loki, on his part, blinked before looking down to see whether his burden was unharmed. One ancient manuscript had spawned two more, assuming Thor had seen him accurately at the training grounds. Satisfied after a cursory glance, he turned his attention back to Thor. "The healers are in the opposite direction, brother."  
  
"I know." Surely Loki must have known he had already been to see Hogun.  
  
The silence that fell between them was solid enough to block outward sound. Thor wasn't sure if he could step through it, but any case his legs had already turned to stone.  
  
Loki observed Thor's expression with a characteristic poise. He looked far healthier than he had a few days prior: only a certain pallor and a suggestion of shadows beneath his eyes remained of his sickliness. He stood uncomfortably close: one step forward, and their chests would be touching.  
  
Thor cleared his throat. "He is going to recover."  
  
"I'm glad." Had Loki's eyes always been so clear and curious? Thor supposed they had. Dreams of running his fingers through his hair came to him unbidden.  
  
Doing his best to disguise his sudden shortness of breath, he posed a blunt question. "Do you blame me?"  
  
It had been the first safe question to cross his mind, but he felt better for asking it. If his parents were not present and his friends were not holding him accountable, his brother was the likeliest person in Asgard to reprove of his actions. Usually, he paid little heed to any castigations, but right then he yearned for the honest truth.  
  
Loki tilted his head ever so slightly to the left. He kept staring at Thor as though he was trying to discern something particular in his eyes. Guilt? Shame? Whatever it was, he didn't appear satisfied.  
  
Finally, he smiled. "Would you feel better if I did?"  
  
Before Thor could decide what to make of his response, Loki brushed past him. As he did so, his fingers glided across Thor's arm in a manner that seemed entirely deliberate.  
  
Thor turned after him, pulled by the touch like a compass towards the north, but already Loki had retracted his hand and was walking briskly away without looking back.  
  
He stood in place for a long while, feeling the sparks spreading through him from where the fingertips had caressed him, moored only by his fear of what might happen if he obeyed his urge to follow.

 

* * *

  
  
"It is not like you to brood so."  
  
Thor looked up from where he had been leaning against the pristine white balustrade, freshly polished by the scent of it, and waited for his mother to join his side at the alcove.  
  
Frigga did so. Her dress for the day was the colour of twilight, and the shade, along with her peaceful expression, helped set his mind at ease. They spent several silent moments observing a pair of nesting doves in the adjacent courtyard, as though Frigga really had come over simply to admire the garden.  
  
The illusion shattered fast. "How is your friend?"  
  
"Much better. The healers said he should be safe to leave their care after tonight." For the past two days, he and the remaining members of his entourage had held a nigh constant vigil by Hogun's bedside, even after he had awakened. He had only just departed from their presence, accepting Hogun's reassuring smiles and lack of condemning words like millstones being stacked on his back.  
  
Frigga nodded in a manner that suggested she had already known the answer. "That is fortunate." She was silent before continuing. "Did your father speak to you yet?"  
  
Thor frowned. "Regarding Hogun?"  
  
She averted her eyes towards the budding rose bushes burgeoning against the courtyard walls. In several parts, the climbing ivy had overgrown so wildly it tangled with the thorns. How strange that no-one had done anything about it. "I shall wait till after he has, then."  
  
"Is it about him wanting to pass on the throne?" Better to grab the wolf by the jaw.  
   
She turned towards him, observing him with the same gentle keenness she had the birds and the flowers. "I would have thought you happier at the prospect."  
  
He leaned further against balustrade, not caring how childish the gesture might come across. "I am not ready."  
  
"If you were smiling, I would be certain you were speaking in jest."  
  
Thor said nothing. It was true that a week before, he wouldn't have dreamed of being unprepared. Hadn't he waited all his life to be king? Yet he could no longer recall why he had held such joy at the prospect. "I am too reckless."  
  
"Are you thinking about this because of the accident? It is far from the first one."  
  
He found his smile, or at least a pale imitation of it. His and Loki's childhood spats alone had led to more cuts and scrapes than there were fingers in Asgard to count them with.  
  
That thought, of course, sent him spiralling back to his darker ponderings. The accident itself was one thing, but its root cause was what really gave him pause.  
  
He looked away, seeking out the nest once more. He could speak of it, of course. He could tell her he was attracted to his brother. He could tell her he was in constant dread that he would act upon his feelings, and how his attack on Hogun had only reinforced his fears. He could even tell her that in moments between sleep and wakefulness, and when Lady Sif's eyes were especially piercing on him, he wasn't at all sure he hadn't already done so.  
  
"I am too reckless," he repeated instead.  
  
He hadn't expected Frigga to smile at the words. "How many times did I tell you that when you were a boy?"  
  
He smiled back. "You always said _careless_ , but many times indeed." Such when he had climbed to the roof of the palace and hopped off from increasingly dangerous spots, or when he and Loki had sneaked into a weapon storage to duel for the right of kingship at the tender age of five. "Are you planning on telling me the opposite now?"  
  
"No." She placed her slender hand on Thor's. He still remembered a time when all of fingers had fit inside her fist, a notion which seemed preposterous now. "But I am glad you have put some thought into it. Knowing you are too careless means you can take measures to counter it."  
  
"Aye." He knew he needed to think before he acted. It had simply never mattered before.  
  
"Is that truly all that is on your mind?"  
  
Of course she could see straight into his soul. Only she couldn't, or else she would have surely denounced him already. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"Loki has also been withdrawn lately. He was never that close to your friend, was he?"  
  
"No." He had feared hearing Loki's name would reveal his secret on his face as certainly as if it had been written there with glowing runes, but reminiscing about their shared childhood had dampened the panic, at least for the moment. "I didn't know that he was out of sorts."  
  
Frigga shook her head. "He is feigning good cheer convincingly enough, but he has buried himself in research ever since you returned from Alfheim and appears to have time for nothing else."  
  
Loki was known to get lost in his books from time to time, but Frigga wouldn't have brought it up if there weren't something disquieting about this particular studying spree. "It must be that manuscript he won during our visit there. He did say it was interesting."  
  
Frigga pressed on. "I would not wish to distract him from something he is passionate about, but perhaps this would be a good time for you to further your travels."  
  
Thor stared. "With him alone?"  
  
"And with your friends if they wish to go, of course." For all her usual attention to detail, she appeared to have missed the catch in his breath. "I know you have only just returned, and I do not intend to pressure you. It is simply that I am not sure how much time the two of you have left to go as you please."  
  
"I see." Surely he could still travel when he was king? He had always imagined himself leaving the throne behind to explore the Nine Worlds at his leisure.  
  
The thought brought him back to his earlier doubts, and he was filled with a sudden need to tell Frigga everything. He had never been keen on secrets, and one such as this one, which felt like a pyre raging inside him, wasn't one he wanted on his conscience. Surely she of all people would listen. She would know what to do. She might even know of some magic to tame his troubling desires once and for all.  
  
He had already opened his mouth to speak when the knowledge that what he about to reveal was certain to hurt Frigga even more than a direct hit from Mjölnir stayed his tongue. He couldn't do that. Not to his mother.  
  
And so, he merely said, "I can ask him, at least."  
  
Hot waves ran across the back of his neck, but they were no longer unbearable. In a way, seeing Loki would be a good way to test his resolve. He would have to get used to being around him again without unwanted physical reactions before the coronation at the very least.  
  
"Very well." As far as could tell, Frigga had received exactly had she had sought to gain from their conversation, but her words were tinged with melancholy. Could she tell there was more to the matter? Or was she already thinking about Odin's next long slumber?  
  
He held out his arm and pulled her towards him, waiting for her to lean against his shoulder before placing his chin over her head. Regardless of his own burden, he would have jumped at the opportunity to free his mother from whatever was troubling her.  
  
One of the doves in the courtyard began to warble.  
  
Frigga pulled away, patting Thor's forearm as she did so. "Go on, then."  
  
He didn't turn back, but he felt her eyes following him all the same.


	6. Stoking the Flames

Thor had already grabbed the handle out of habit before he had seconds thoughts. After a moment's indecision, he rapped his knuckles on the door. "Loki?"  
  
No response. He turned the handle to find the door locked.  
  
Sighing, he turned away, deciding to scout out the rest of the wing when the door suddenly opened and Loki peered into the hallway. "What is it?"  
  
"I wish to speak to you."  
  
"Come in, then." Loki disappeared back within, leaving the door slightly ajar.  
  
Trying to recall the self-assured swagger he usually felt entering rooms, Thor followed. The room itself looked as he remembered it, with one exception: all available surfaces were covered in books and notes written in Loki's thin-lined script. Frigga hadn't joked when she had used the word _buried_.  
  
"Why all these books, brother?" He glanced at the nearest note only to find it incomprehensible. Coded runes. Of course.  
  
"They are all here in the name of fun, I assure you." Loki picked up a nearby manuscript, then set it back down as though he hadn't meant to take it in the first place. "In any case, I was about to quit reading for the day and go take a bath."  
  
Loki's definition of "fun" was often dangerously different from normal people, but the thought slipped aside as Thor fought to keep certain images out of his head. It was a mercy when Loki turned his back to him and busied himself stacking what looked to be a set of dictionaries.  
  
After a struggle, Thor composed himself. He had spent an inordinate portion of the past week thinking about Loki with his clothes off, whether he had wished to do so or not. He could ride his familiarity with the sight to safety.  
  
All the same, the now familiar sensation that was like an invisible wire growing taut and inexorably pulling him towards Loki reared its head. He had better act fast. "Would you like to go to Vanaheim with me?"  
  
Loki turned towards him, his head tilted. "With just the two of us?"  
  
"With Lady Sif and the Warriors Three," Thor hastened to add. The notion of travelling alone with his brother had been bad enough before, but hearing Loki had thought the same thing made it seem borderline indecent. "Mother said this is a good time to journeying, and I'm sure Hogun would like to finish his recovery in his home world."  
  
"Why not? I will join you."  
  
"Good." The weight on Thor's shoulders eased off, but didn't quite evaporate. Without noticing, he had been balancing on the balls of his feet, ready to retreat at a moment's notice. He adopted a more secure stance. "We will leave in a few days' time."  
  
Loki nodded. "I shall prepare for it, then."  
  
There they were, at a natural end to the conversation. Even as Thor kept it in mind, he couldn't guess how Frigga had twigged onto something being strange about her youngest: he had all his usual mannerisms and said all the right things in the correct tones of voice. He looked well, too, likely more so than Thor himself did after so many nights of disturbed sleep. Only the tension was off, and surely that was only between them.  
  
The tension which was growing more constricting by the moment, but he was loath to leave just yet. "Speaking of preparations, Hogun will be released tomorrow. We are planning on celebrating him the same night."  
  
Loki raised an eyebrow. "Is that an invitation?"  
  
"Aye. It will only be the usual suspects, but it should be fun."  
  
"Perhaps I will come." Loki turned his back again and walked towards his bedchamber. "If that is all, I would like to go on with my day."  
  
Thor had pushed his luck far enough. "I will see you later."  
  
The lock clicked shut behind him the moment he exited the room.  
  
He ignored why it might be and focused instead on the silver lining. He had managed an entirely normal conversation with his brother without so much as his cheeks colouring. An extended journey in close quarters would be a challenge, but the celebration the following night would serve as a practice run, one he had an entire day to prepare himself for mentally. Perhaps, step by step, he could walk back to normalcy, freed of his urges for good.  
  
All the same, he had to make an effort to keep unworthy thoughts at bay as he walked away.

 

* * *

  
  
After locking the door, Loki leaned against it half to ensure it was firmly shut, half to support himself. The illusion camouflaging the shadows around his eyes shed away the instant he let it slip.  
  
He wasn't afraid of Thor. He was still Thor, with his bright smile and kind eyes and easily distractable mind. His brother. His brother, who, while aware something wasn't right, obviously did not recall much of what had passed, and had based on his carefree words decided to move on from anything he did. He was perfectly safe.  
  
His heart had its own ideas and kept thrumming like he was in the midst of battle no matter what he told it.  
  
After he had gathered himself, he retreated back within, toppling over the stack he had made earlier to access the notes beneath. He slumped back onto his chair and disenchanted them to read through them once again, knowing all the while they would state the same thing they had the past twenty times he had read them.  
  
He had finally bested the third layer of code the compiler of the manuscript had used early that morning. The second one had been annoying enough: some of the text was only legible in the light of a full moon, and while he had been able to figure that out quickly enough, the effort it had taken to simulate the correct lighting well enough to fool the enchantment hadn't been worth the few additional recipes of dubious use it had revealed.  
  
He had persisted, certain the manuscript was hiding further secrets, and had eventually struck gold: some of the runes had nigh invisible notches, unobservable to the naked eye, which were meant to clue in the reader to write them out separately to spell out additional instructions and warnings. He had heard of the paranoia of ancient elven spellcrafters before, but the degree of subterfuge still seemed more malicious than useful.  
  
That was before getting into what the secondary text he had painstakingly put together actually said. Each recipe as scribed in the visible portion of the manuscript lacked either a key ingredient or a necessary step in its creation. Many of the unfinished potions were merely useless or less effective, but he had found one set of instructions which instead of the advertised tonic resulted in a lethal poison.  
  
He had felt vindicated. There, then, was the reason for his erratic results. Thus, he had been less than thrilled to discover that the truth serum was one of the few that functioned as intended without the missing ingredient. The lack of a stabiliser resulted in a plethora of potential side effects, yes, from disturbed heartbeat and overpowering drowsiness to delirium and long-lasting nightmares, but none which actively altered its nature. It was rather the potion's potency which had been masked, and the side note confirming its lust-inducing qualities did little to soothe his nerves.  
  
The note crumpled in his fist.  
  
He had spent the week learning more about Alfheimian alchemy than he had ever truly wished to know. He had explored the possibility that that the substitutions he had made had also resulted in unintended side effects. He had even taken into account the possibility the atmosphere in Asgard reacted differently to the ingredients than that of Alfheim. Despite all this, the conclusion he arrived to was yet again the same.  
  
The potion was not a love potion. Though drinking it was tantamount to surrendering to one's basest instincts, it didn't create sentiment where none existed. Thor's words, possibly even his actions, had in some part happened because he had wanted them to happen.  
  
Loki tossed the note aside, and had already hurled the manuscript against the wall before he thought better of it. It opened in the air and crashed against the wall with a thud, then fell to the floor with its spine pointing upwards. A loose page freed by the impact fluttered down after it, landing limply by its side.  
  
He lowered his hand slowly, forcing his breathing steady as he did so. Did it even matter what the manuscript and all his research claimed? Even if he were to believe it, it changed nothing about the sickening manner in which he had been treated.  
  
No. What he ought to do was what he should have done from the beginning and plot vengeance. It wouldn't be the first time he had taken revenge on Thor for slights his brother had already forgotten, but more than that, he wished to exact payback on those who had foisted the manuscript onto him in the first place. If it hadn't been for them and their vile, hateful tricks...  
  
He was still planning precisely what he would do once he got his hands on the stupid elves when his eyes began to flicker shut from sheer exhaustion. The only time during the past week he had managed to fall asleep before the sun had already risen and hadn't been startled back awake soon after had been a few nights earlier, when he had drunk himself into a stupor to numb the barbed thoughts circling his mind and keeping him from sleep. Perhaps he ought to try it again. The alcohol still in his bloodstream had certainly taken the edge off his chance meeting with Thor the following day the way going to observe him at the training grounds hadn't.  
  
In any case, he didn't need to drink just then: his body was already shutting down all by itself. He sank in his seat and tried to welcome the invisible hands pulling him down, hoping that this time his slumber would be utterly without dreams.  
  
The sunlight hadn't altered in the slightest when he slammed his eyes back open, blinking to exorcise the images looming in the darkness behind them.  
  
He stayed still in spite of the awkward way his side pressed against the armrest, fighting to catch his breath. When it didn't work, he drove his fingers into his leg and pressed down till the pain tethered him fully to the present moment.  
  
He sat back up, ignoring the sting in his eyes.  
  
It couldn't go on. Though most of what had passed in the night had gained a dream-like glaze, thick enough he struggled to make out several key details, the rest haunted him and took on endless guises to torment him further. Even in the safe confines of his room, the recollection of Thor's rough hands and the press of his member against his body were nearly as real as the chair he sat on, and didn't seem to grow any hazier no matter how much time passed. Worse yet were the nightmares where he succeeded at penetrating him and from which Loki always awoke layered in sweat, half expecting to find himself speared in two.  
  
Perhaps the dreams would have left him alone if he really had been.  
  
He blinked, then glared down at the flattened manuscript. Such a pointless thought. For all he had forgotten, he did remember the raw terror from when he had realised Thor wasn't giving him a choice. He had put an end to it precisely because he didn't want it to happen. Even if the same events played out a thousand times over, he would choose to scorch Thor a thousand times over further degradation.  
  
_Of course,_ a persistent and highly annoying voice echoed from the back of his mind, _it wouldn't be such a degradation if he truly loved—_  
  
He squashed the thought, all too familiar with the banal ways it would try to excuse his violation if he let it live, then stood up and walked over to the window. Nothing but sunshine and long shadows. Too bright, too dark. If he looked at them too closely, he could feel his mind unravelling at the edges.  
  
Once again, he found himself short of breath.  
  
As he leaned against the windowpane and forced himself to breathe, a weakness in him wished he could simply purge the intrusive memories. It wasn't an option, not while it would leave both Thor and Sif possessing knowledge he no longer had. The intelligent thing to do was to pull himself together and maintain the pretence that everything was as it should be long enough for it to become true. What was one more thing to feign indifference to when that was how he had lived his entire life till then?  
  
It was the only choice.  
  
He turned his attention skywards, away from the rising heat coiling within him.  
  
The only choice.

 

* * *

  
  
It wasn't a true celebration by any usual standards, but Thor couldn't have cared less. They were all six together in a cosy room, with a lit hearth and plenty of food and drink, and if Hogun's movements weren't quite so nimble as they usually were, he was indeed much recovered. What more could he ask for?  
  
A lot, in fact, but he joked and made plans with his friends as though his life was made of sunshine all the same. He almost believed it himself, to where he didn't flinch as Loki sat down by his side with a fresh drink in hand.  
  
Loki leaned to glance inside Thor's empty horn. "And here I thought we could make a toast."  
  
"To what?"  
  
Loki quirked an eyebrow and nudged his head towards the seat to their right, where Hogun and Lady Sif were engaged in quiet conversation.  
  
Thor grinned, relieved to have his attention drawn away from what was directly next to him. "Of course." They had toasted Hogun's health twice by then, but a third round of well-wishing couldn't hurt.  
  
"I shall fetch you some more mead, then." Without waiting for a response, Loki snatched the horn from Thor's hand in a single deft movement and stood back up.  
  
He let out a breath he was only now aware he had been holding. "Half a horn will be enough." Better not get drunk at all if he could avoid it. The last thing he wanted to do was go overboard and give his lust an opportunity to go unchecked.  
  
Loki turned back towards him with a furrowed brow. "Are you ill, brother?"  
  
"No." Was he merely echoing Thor's words from the week before, or was it genuinely suspicious if he didn't wish to indulge more? He supposed a drop more couldn't hurt. "Bring what you will."  
  
He looked away to give himself some respite as Loki walked to the casks. Fandral and Volstagg were, by the look of the tankards piled on the floor, engaged in a drinking competition. A practice round for Volstagg's upcoming challenge to overthrow Thor as the master of the sport?  
  
For some reason, thought of challenges made his mind drift towards Odin. The All-Father hadn't yet summoned him to speak of kingship, but Frigga wouldn't have asked about it if wasn't going to happen in the very near future. From what he had observed during mealtimes, his father's crow's feet were more pronounced by the day. He did need rest, but the question remained how soon.  
  
"Thor?"  
  
Loki had returned, and without further ado held out a horn. It was more than half full, but it wasn't filled to the brim, either.  
  
Thor accepted it gratefully and found himself not minding when Loki reassumed his previous seat. They were close enough that he could see the light of the hearth reflected in his eyes, yes, but if he focused instead on his thoughts about his upcoming responsibilities, he could restrain himself.  
  
"Perhaps instead of Hogun, we should toast the future king of Asgard?" Loki's tone was lightly teasing, but mostly Thor found himself amused that his brother appeared to have read his thoughts. Better this one than the rest.  
  
He risked meeting Loki's gaze, and to his surprise, discovered he could give him a genuine smile. "That is still premature."  
  
"Not by much, I wager." Loki brought his horn forward and with a gentle clack bumped it against Thor's. "To you, then."  
  
That done, he looked elsewhere to where the drinking contest had just concluded and brought his drink to his lips.  
  
Thor didn't follow suit just yet. Sitting together in silence and watching Loki quietly nursing his horn made him realise just how much he had missed simply being around his brother. If a week of separation was enough to make him feel this way, how was he supposed to cope if his fixation lasted much longer?  
  
"Loki." He looked for a place to set down his horn. He had found none by the time Loki turned his attention to him. "When I do become king, I want you to be my..."  
   
While he was groping for the best words to express that he wanted his brother by his side, he was relieved of the horn. He turned to see Lady Sif standing next to him, holding it. "Thank you."  
  
But Lady Sif wasn't looking at him. Her gaze was nailed on Loki, with her mouth pursed into a thin line like a blade's edge. "I wish to speak with you. Right now, if at all possible."  
  
Loki looked as surprised as Thor felt. "I wasn't aware we had anything to discuss."  
  
"We do."  
  
For a long while, Loki said nothing. Then he shrugged and stood up, abandoning his empty horn on the table next to the settee. "If the esteemed Lady Sif asks for something so graciously, who am I to say no?"  
  
Lady Sif's left eye twitched, but she made no comment as they walked across the room and disappeared through the door.  
  
Thor stared after them, trying to think of anything they could possibly wish to speak of to each other. Perhaps it was Thor himself.  
  
He found himself wanting of a drink he would have quite liked now. Holding back a sigh, he went to fetch himself another one, making a firm decision to discuss battle techniques with Hogun afterwards and not think of anything that might be going outside the hall.

 

* * *

  
  
It was early enough into the night that Sif had to walk for several minutes before finding an unoccupied room, a less-used storage mostly housing and some old but passable weapons. It was secluded enough.  
  
When she gestured at Loki to enter, he glided past her with the air of a cat who clearly wished everyone to know he had personally chosen to move and that it had nothing to do with his owner's wishes. She had just shut the door behind herself and taken in the array of antique swords and spears arranged neatly on the back wall when Loki flicked his wrist, obviously casting a spell.  
  
She wrinkled her nose in suspicion. "What was that?"  
  
"Something to guarantee our privacy."  
  
"Very well." She searched around and propped the full drinking horn on top of one of the barrels with the aid of a pair of small jars. She took a deep breath to gather herself.  
  
Then, she grabbed Loki by the lapels of his robe and pushed him against the nearest barrel. "What in the Nine Worlds do you think you are doing?"  
  
Loki's eyes widened, his mouth falling open to let out a protest that didn't arrive. His hands hovered in the air as though to latch onto her wrists before dropping back down.  
  
"That would my question," he said, his tone as warm and inviting as a blizzard. "What are you trying to accomplish by dragging me into some dark corner and manhandling me for no rhyme or reason?"  
  
Why did he insist on wasting both of their time by playing dumb? "Enough acting. Your back may have been turned, but I saw you pouring something into Thor's horn."  
  
"Naturally. It's called mead."  
  
"Very funny." Sif lowered her glare to show she wasn't the least bit amused. "I know you tampered with his drink."  
  
Loki met her eyes sharply, with no apparent shame. "You are delusional. Why would I do anything of the sort? You know I love my brother more dearly than any of you do."  
  
"That was not in question." Frankly, Sif didn't care either way. When had love ever stopped people from hurting one another? "As it happens, you are not half as good at lying as you think you are."  
  
He freed himself from her grip, but made no move to escape. Instead, he turned to look at the horn.  
  
He plucked it up. "Is this the drink you believe to be tainted?"  
  
"Yes." She saw what he meant to do and felt a sudden chill. "Look, don't bother—"  
  
Loki gave her a single glance, then raised the horn and drank deeply.  
  
Perfect silence reigned in the storage until he set the empty horn back onto the barrel. It sounded like a gavel being brought down.

Loki straightened himself, meeting Sif's stare with a cool dignity at odds with their surroundings.  
  
"I know why you are doing this," he said abruptly, shaking her from her horrified reverie. "You have always been so desperate to prove yourself, haven't you? First it was as a warrior, and now you are so eager to showcase your cleverness as well that you imagine wicked plots where none exist."  
  
She glared. "You are wrong."  
  
"I am right to tell you this, at least. It will not matter what you do or how brilliant you are. They will always look at you as though you were somehow lesser, and there is nothing you can ever do about it."  
  
"You are changing the subject," Sif replied, forcing herself to ignore the sting of the words. The longer she thought about, the more convinced she was that Loki's little stunt had proven nothing. Of course he had prepared for the eventuality of eye witnesses, and had all but certainly consumed an antidote to whatever foul poison he had slipped into the horn well in advance.  
  
"Am I, now?" Some of Loki's habitual smugness had returned to his half-smile.  
  
"That's enough." If it was war he wanted, she would give him war. "I may not know what you are plotting, but if you think you can deceive me into disbelieving my own eyes, it's you who is delusional."  
  
She ignored Loki's raised eyebrow. Despite all the steel she had packed into her words, doubt had crept into her mind. The hall had been dimly lit, after all, and she had only witnessed Loki doing something suspicious for a heartbeat's length at best. Her first instinct to assume he had done something similar the week prior likewise made less sense upon further thought. Surely he wouldn't have played the same trick twice, especially not after what had happened the previous time? Why would anyone do such a thing?  
  
"This is all I will say on this subject." She couldn't hesitate now, not with Loki's unnerving ability to hone in on any weakness shown. Unrelated or not, she knew foul play when she saw it. "I will not allow you to harm Thor. If I see him acting strangely today, or tomorrow, or any other day, or if I see you offering him any food or drink or casting any spells without an obvious purpose around him, I will walk straight to the Queen and tell her exactly what I saw the week before. All of it."  
  
"You will not," Loki immediately replied, almost too swiftly. "You wouldn't break your word."  
  
"I have kept it. I said I would remain silent only as long as I had no further reason to doubt your claims."  
  
Loki glanced towards the empty horn, but Sif remained adamant. Eventually, he shrugged. "If you are so honour-bound that you cannot help ruining Thor's life for naught, then do as you will."  
  
"Whether I speak up or not is up to you." She couldn't tell whether he was bluffing or not. Worse, she was no longer sure if she meant her own words, but knowing she had to say _something_ gave her the strength to persevere. "Surely if you love him as much as you claim to do, you don't wish for that to happen either."  
  
Since making her warning, she had been carefully observing him for any signs of distress. Now, for a flicker, a shadow of pain passed behind his eyes. "She will not believe you."  
  
"I hope I never have to find out whether she will or not."  
  
She turned to leave, sudden shame churning in her stomach. Was she really going to hold what she had witnessed as a sword over Loki's head? Even taking into account the chance he only had himself to blame for what had passed, she shuddered at the thought.  
  
She subdued the feeling. She believed in Thor's innocence. In any case, it was too late to turn back.  
  
She walked back to the hall without so much as a shadow following her.


	7. Immolation

The first stars had emerged when Thor said farewell to his friends. He smiled at them as he headed towards his rooms, savouring the cool air filtering in through the open windows even as his mind remained adrift.  
  
Lady Sif had rejoined the company soon after she had initially left, tight-lipped and eager to drink. Loki had not returned, and after receiving a shrug and an evasive response from Lady Sif, Thor had not pressed the issue. All the same, he had found it difficult to enjoy both the mead and good company afterwards.  
  
Though he had barely drunk and felt perfectly steady, he slowed his pace. There were footsteps trailing after him, and he looked over his shoulder to see Lady Sif, not exactly sneaking, but keeping what he considered a completely unnecessary distance between him and herself.  
  
He halted entirely and waited for her to join his side. "Is something the matter?"  
  
"Not as such." Despite her words, her eyes kept flitting towards every shadow as they continued down the hallway together.  
  
"Are you expecting an ambush?" He had always thought Fandral was the paranoid drunk.  
  
"No." She set her jaw and said nothing more though her gaze still darted around.  
  
They walked the length of the hallway in silence before Thor broke it again. "What did you and Loki have to discuss?" A silly thought crossed his mind. "Assuming it wasn't a surprise party."  
  
"That would be quite the surprise indeed." The comment got a momentary smile out of her, but it wasn't long till she sighed. "I may as well tell you now that I saw him putting something suspicious into your drink."  
  
"Oh." His instincts warning him about a prank hadn't been off their mark. They had simply been a week too early. "Is that all?"  
  
Lady Sif pulled a face. "I could ask you same question." She glanced around at the empty space surrounding them and lowered her voice. "I have reason to suspect it was no normal prank." She hesitated further before adding, "And though I cannot explain it, he may have done something similar a week ago, as well."  
  
It was fortunate they had already walked past from the windows opening to the inner courtyard, or else she would have surely spotted the blush spreading across Thor's face.  
  
He should have seen this coming. If she had witnessed him making a drunken love confession to his brother, let alone, Norns forbid, kissing him, it only made sense she would try to find an explanation for it.  
  
A selfish part of him was eager to agree with her, but there was no justice in that. Even if he would never again act upon them, his feelings were entirely real.  
  
"I wouldn't lay the blame on him just yet," he managed.  
  
She slowed down, then gave him a very strange look. Though he couldn't be certain in the dark, he thought she had taken a step away from him.  
  
"Not that I doubt what you saw," he continued. "I will keep my eyes open."  
  
She looked away, her brow knitting in pain even as she nodded. "I know you will. Goodnight."  
  
She walked briskly past him, soon swallowed by the twilight. Thor stared after her, feeling, if possible, less enlightened than before.  
  
The rest of his walk was uneventful, and soon enough he found himself back in his rooms. There was but the scantest of lights to guide his way to his bedroom, but it was all he needed: he had no will to do anything but wrestle his clothes off and lie down for the night, hoping his dreams would shed some understanding to the cryptic conversation he had just had, or else that Loki would more prove amenable to questions the following morning.  
  
He couldn't help but smile. Now that was a dream, all right.  
  
As soon he thought that, he saw movement in the darkness ahead.  
  
At once, his hand was on his belt, fingers curling around Mjölnir's shaft. Before he raised the weapon, however, he located the source of movement. A figure sat on his bed, inert and not visibly armed.

Though he had only just thought of him, it was still with some surprise that he recognised the silhouette. "Loki?"  
  
Loki looked up. His pale face was beautiful and eerie in the night, like the visage of some lost spirit. He said nothing as he stood up and glided across the room, silent as a cat.  
  
Thor half expected to see a dagger materialise in his hand, but not even when he stood directly before him, his eyes shrouded by the night, did he make any kind of attack. They contemplated each other in silence.  
  
Finally, Loki reached up and wrapped his arms around Thor's neck. He leaned slowly forward and kissed him.  
  
It was brief, over as soon as Thor parted his lips more in surprise than as an invitation, but the warmth lingered on his mouth even after Loki took a step backwards, dropped his hands to Thor's shoulders, and waited for his reaction.  
  
Thor took a strangled breath, his throat remaining dry, and gave voice to the question hanging between them. "Why?"  
  
Loki flashed him a sudden smile. "Do you know that I have always been jealous of you?"  
  
"What?" What did that have to do with anything?  
  
"You have always had everything I wanted to have, and simply took it for granted. I hate that you make friends so easily. I hate that Father looks at you and sees his heir. I hate that you don't have to be afraid of him."  
  
Thor blinked both at the torrent of words and the harsh ring to them, more bewildered by the moment. "Why should you be afraid of Father? He loves you."  
  
Loki made a non-committal sound, then continued as though Thor hadn't interrupted him. "I hate that you don't see how much effort I put into acting as I should while you stomp around without a care, and I hate that you can commit rank foolishness yet face no consequences. And yet..."  
  
He trailed off as abruptly as he had begun, looking aside and breathing heavily.  
  
His comments might have hurt, once, but all Thor felt now was concern. "You are drunk."  
  
"No more drunk than you are." Admittedly, Loki didn't sound drunk, just odd. There was something detached about his gaze when it narrowed on Thor's eyes. "Did you mean it when you said you loved me?"  
  
Thor felt hot and cold at once, like he had been immersed in boiling water straight from a blizzard.  
  
"I did," he confessed. It was the truth, after all, and not fatal as long as he wasn't asked to elaborate on the exact nature of said love.  
  
"So you claim. I didn't believe you when you first kissed me any more than I believe you now."  
  
The response was erratic at best, but that fell by the wayside as Thor took in what it was saying. There it finally was, a confirmation to what he had suspected all along.  
  
His throat was by then well on the way of turning into a desert. "I should never have done that."  
  
"No, you shouldn't have." The unexpected return of Loki's smile alleviated but a fraction of Thor's guilt, gone as soon as he shook his head. "It doesn't matter now. I tried to forget, but I cannot stop thinking about you and what might have passed if only..."  
  
As he trailed off, his hands travelled down and sideways towards Thor's chest. Thor caught them and held them between them, almost as though they were clasping hands.  
  
"Loki, I am truly sorry."  
  
"Even if I told you I feel the same way?"  
  
His blood went from ice to fire without a single stop between. It only now truly dawned to him that it wasn't a fantasy or a solid illusion, but the real Loki standing before him.  
  
"You _are_ drunk," he repeated more insistently. It simply couldn't be true. It couldn't possibly be so easy.  
  
Loki looked hurt. "You don't love me, then."  
  
It was the choice between a bad lie and a bad truth. "I do. It's not—"  
  
"More than anyone?"  
  
The waxing hope in Loki's eyes made him relent and nod. "More than anyone."  
  
He had hoped and perhaps even expected another smile. Instead, Loki turned his face away, biting his lip. His grip on Thor's fingers slackened.  
  
Ignoring the growing need pooling in his stomach, Thor took the opportunity to create some distance between them. "You should leave."  
  
Loki shook his head and clung on with sudden force, as though Thor's hands were the only thing keeping him from plunging into an abyss. "No. Let me stay."  
  
He paused, visibly struggling with himself. When he finally continued, he first closed his eyes, his words less an utterance and more an exhale.  
  
"I love you."  
  
If Thor had felt light-headed before, his feet were now completely off the ground.  
  
He caught himself. It didn't matter even if both of them wanted it. There was something off about the situation, like he had found himself in a subtly deranged dream, and even discounting that as an effect of his tiredness, there remained a line between brothers that should never be crossed.  
  
He had to say no.  
  
He let go of Loki's hands and instead reached for his shoulders, pulling him closer till he was flush against his chest.  
  
He had to put an end to it.  
  
He breathed in the night air mingling with emerging sweat and wrapped his arms tightly around Loki's frame, even now somewhat surprised by how readily he returned the embrace.  
  
He had to put a stop to what he was doing that very instant.  
  
He didn't. Instead, he tilted Loki's head upwards and returned the kiss with the full brunt of the passion raging within his body.  
  
When they finally broke away, he took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself, his heart stubbornly beating at panic rhythm all the while. He willed to let go, but now he was the one clutching Loki like he was a lifeline.  
  
Loki was likewise breathing heavily. There was a glossy sheen to his eyes when he lifted his head, but no sign of repulsion. Quite the opposite.  
  
"Thank you," he whispered.  
  
Those two hushed words made the last of Thor's resistance crumble. Could it really be wrong if they truly loved each other? It felt right. More right than anything had ever felt.  
  
He kissed Loki again, and would have been happy to keep at it for much longer had Loki not uncoiled his arms and taken his hand, gently guiding him towards the bed. It wasn't long till he found himself kneeling on the mattress next to him.  
  
Even in the haze of desire, his body aching for more, he made himself pause. "Are you sure?"  
  
Loki gave him a long look, his eyes as dark as the shadows surrounding them. "I love you."  
  
It was a _yes_ if Thor had ever heard one. He resumed the kiss, but it was no longer enough to satisfy the fire building up within him no matter how eagerly Loki responded to it. He pulled back and began undressing, cursing under his breath as he struggled with his tunic. He finally got it over his head and tossed it off the bed in triumph, then looked at Loki to see how he would respond.  
  
He did so by undoing his collar.  
  
Thor grinned and moved on to wrestle with his trousers, which were slowly but certainly getting too tight around the crotch, when instead of removing his robe, Loki unveiled a small glass bottle from its folds. It was mostly empty, with perhaps quarter of an inch of glass-coloured liquid at the bottom.  
  
Thor squinted at it. "What is that?" Not water: it moved too sluggishly for that.  
  
"Something to help us." Loki placed the vial against the headboard. The words were curiously slurred, and Thor would have sincerely suspected he was drunk after all if their meaning hadn't permeated his skull right there and then and made him forget all else.  
  
He hesitated no longer as Loki eased himself down onto the bed, but tore the last of his clothes off himself and then moved to help Loki with his. He had seen his brother in the nude more times than either of them could count, but perhaps because he couldn't think of him as his brother, not with his lips brushing against his ear and his hands caressing his muscles, the body he was uncovering appeared wholly altered. Every inch of unveiled skin was a revelation, every released contour a new wonder to explore.  
  
After removing the last garment and casting it on top of the others, Thor finally found enough willpower to still once more. Loki lay peacefully in place, his hair spread across the white sheets, his pale limbs ethereal in the moonlight. His eyes were half hooded, their gaze hovering somewhere near Thor's shoulder.  
  
"Loki?" He sorely hoped his brother wasn't thinking about going asleep. The heat within him was already screaming for release, and he didn't know how long he could hold it back.  
  
Loki stirred. He raised a languid hand and splayed it above Thor's heart, trailing his fingertips downwards across his abdomen and past his hips, his shadowed eyes following the movement.  
  
"You are beautiful," he murmured, letting his hand drop back down to his own chest.  
  
Thor couldn't help but smile. Loki had stolen the words right out of his mouth, so instead he leaned downwards for one last kiss, slowly lowering himself till their chests and hips were pressed together. Loki barely responded to either action, but he opened his mouth willingly to Thor's tongue all the same. He was almost unnaturally yielding: not even in his most secret dreams had Thor ever pictured him so pliable and unguarded.  
  
He didn't dwell on the thought. He broke the kiss and nuzzled his head against Loki's neck as his hand travelled downwards between them. He glided it across Loki's inner thigh, then halted at his crotch, a tremor running across him as his hand closed around Loki's still soft cock.  
  
Loki responded to the touch by closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, then throwing his hand above his head and groping for something sight unseen. Breathing heavily, Thor looked up to see the small bottle he had deposited there earlier. With his free hand, he reached over and snatched it, bringing it over to rest just above Loki's shoulder.  
  
Loki's hand curled around his, and he gently pushed both the hand and bottle towards Thor. Thor took the hint and teased out the stopper, after which he didn't let his uncertainty to bother him any longer. He had the general gist of how things were meant to progress from there, and Loki was sure to voice his protests if he made some kind of a misstep.  
  
There was only enough liquid to coat two of his fingers. It tingled on his skin as he once again reached downwards and groped for the entrance, the first of the fingers sinking in almost on its own.  
  
By the time it was in to its second knuckle, Loki's body gave a spasm, but he stilled again afterwards. His insides were as hot as a furnace, clinging to the invading digit as though trying to coax it in further. Soon enough he was bucking into the touch, lashes fluttering before almost closed eyes, breathing so heavily Thor could barely hear his own ragged breaths. A kind of uncertainty flashed across his features when Thor added the second finger, but it vanished when he paused and didn't return, his body once more relaxing around the intrusion.  
  
Thor pulled out as soon as the entrance yielded readily to both fingers. His cock was painfully hard where it rested against Loki's thigh, and he could wait no longer. He positioned himself, pushing Loki's legs upwards till his knees nearly touched his chest, then guided the tip of his shaft between his cheeks.  
  
There, in a heroic effort, he waited and sought Loki's gaze. The light had shifted, casting fresh shadows on his face. His eyes were so dark — impossibly dark, they had always been so bright, but it all melted into one gaze in the heat of the moment — but they looked up at the ceiling without alarm. It was impossible to be sure, but Thor thought he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.  
  
It was enough. He thrust forward.  
  
There was a hitch in Loki's breath as the tip breached him, one that made Thor halt despite the nigh painful tightness squeezing the head of his cock begging him to push further in. It wasn't repeated, and when Loki closed his eyes once again, Thor allowed his patience, already stretched hair-thin, to give out entirely, and thrust onwards at full force.  
  
Even with his precome easing the passage, there wasn't enough lubrication, and he was forced to lean his weight against Loki's thighs and push ahead in short, sharp jabs. For all his earlier eagerness, Loki's body opened up maddeningly slowly underneath him, clenching sharply at every inch gained. The occasional soft whimper escaped from his lips whenever Thor slammed his hips forward with particular might, but he moved not so much as a finger in protest till finally, with one last forceful push, Thor found himself fully sheathed within.  
  
Exhausted by the effort and straining to keep from spilling as pleasure mingled with pain, he pushed Loki's legs further to the sides and re-positioned himself, placing his hands on the mattress on either side of Loki before dropping his weight onto them. He breathed.  
  
Then, he looked down. Loki's eyes were still shut, his skin flushed from the struggle to accommodate Thor's girth. His lips barely moved as he mumbled indistinct syllables, like someone talking in their sleep.  
  
"Loki?" he murmured in a hoarse voice. He couldn't hold out for much longer: his earlier discomfort was ebbing, leaving behind only how good the throbbing passage felt spasming and squeezing all across his length, but he wanted to make sure nothing was amiss.  
  
"Mmm..." Loki's eyelids fluttered, but didn't open. "Don't... stop..."  
  
His head lolled to the side, but the response and the growing firmness of his crotch against Thor's abdomen were more than enough fuel for Thor to drop his hips and thrust back in, stretching Loki further open in as long and controlled strokes as he could muster under the circumstances.  
  
It was getting harder and harder to control his limbs with each passing moment, and so he allowed his body to crash onto Loki's. With a trembling hand, he reached between them and stroked Loki's cock in tandem with his thrusts, earning small, keening noises which he could never have imagined Loki capable of making as a reward.  
  
He was certain he would spill first, but suddenly Loki, already tense, arched his back like he had been struck by lightning. He clenched painfully, releasing a familiar rush of liquid within Thor's closed fist, then fell flat against the mattress, entirely still and slack.  
  
By then, Thor was already past the edge himself, and had no presence of mind left to do anything but follow him. He let go and instead braced his weight against his elbows, rutting into the unresisting body a few more times before burying himself as deep within as he could go and unleashing all the fire that had gathered within him in a single flood of ecstasy.  
  
He allowed himself to lie down on top of Loki for a few deep breaths before pulling out. The trickle of seed that followed looked odd to him, but he thought nothing of it at first. It was only when he inspected his slackening cock and found streaks of blood across its length that fear gripped his heart.  
  
He reached up to stroke Loki's cheek. "Loki?"  
  
No reaction. Loki was breathing slowly, already fast asleep.  
  
After discovering no external signs of bleeding, Thor allowed himself to relax. Either it hadn't hurt as much as it looked it had, or the pleasure had more than compensated for the pain. He settled for brushing away the sweat beading on Loki's forehead before untangling himself and rolling onto his back, utterly spent but beyond blissful. He fell in rhythm with Loki's breathing, winding down into a deep slumber.


	8. Wildfire

Thor woke up cold despite the sunlight warming his skin. He turned to his side and allowed his mind to dwell in the comfortable haze between sleep and wakefulness for a few moments longer, oblivious to everything but the bed beneath him.  
  
It didn't last. He opened his eyes, the sun blazing into them at full force from between curtains he had neglected to close, then turned around. Loki lay next to him with his face turned towards the wall, breathing so softly that Thor had to lean in closer to make certain he was in fact alive.  
  
Like a tidal wave, reality crashed back in.  
  
He fought off the initial urge to leap to his feet, if only barely, and slumped instead against the headboard, breathing heavily. There was no point denying what had happened — everything he saw pointed to one thing and one thing alone — but that didn't make it any easier to decide what to do next. He wasn't even sure what to think.  
  
He moved to rouse Loki, but after seeing how peaceful his slumber was, chose instead to reach for a discarded sheet that had been kicked off from the bed at some point during the night and pull it over his sleeping form. He watched him for a moment longer, trying to discern the faint movements of his chest through the thin fabric, then looked for his clothes.  
  
The question of what he was supposed to do now returned with a vengeance as he pulled up his trousers. Perhaps Loki would have an answer once he awoke. He usually did.  
  
He turned to look at him, and saw he had instinctively curled himself under the blanket. He couldn't help but smile as warmth spilled into his chest. Even with everything that could go wrong, he couldn't regret giving their love form.  
  
He continued smiling as he put on his tunic, and was just reaching for his belt when Loki finally stirred, tossing his head to the side with a groan. A deep ridge had formed between his closed eyes, and as Thor looked on, he began to writhe in growing distress, fretful as though trying and failing to escape from some unseen monster.  
  
At once, Thor was at his side. He had never known his brother to suffer from night terrors, and didn't know whether it was a greater kindness to leave him be or to shake him awake. He resolved to do the latter gently.  
  
He took hold of his upper arms and hauled him half upright. That was all it took, apparently, as the very next moment Loki opened his eyes. His unfocused gaze fell upon Thor, his frown remaining as he tried to discern his surroundings.  
  
His eyes slammed open in horror.  
  
He wrenched himself free before Thor could say a word, then went still as a statue, staring down at himself and the blanket that was the only thing covering him.  
  
Thor, his hands hovering in the air where Loki had been, recovered and reached over to touch his shoulder. Perhaps his behaviour was some remnant from his nightmares, though the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach said that it was not. "Loki?"  
  
Loki shied away from the touch, leading Thor to drop his hand at once, then resumed his previous motionlessness. Finally, he raised his head to stare at the empty air before him.  
  
"Where are my clothes?"  
  
His tone was business-like and entirely at odds with his rigid posture. Thor leaned over to where he had earlier found Loki's clothes mingled with his own and handed them over. Loki took them without a word and turned his back as he began to mechanically dress himself.  
   
Thor sat stock-still, deafened by the heavy silence that had fallen in the chamber. He decided to put paid to it before it crushed him. "Are you hurt?"  
  
Loki glanced at him, his hands working on the links of his robe, then turned back as though he was air. He was done soon after and and stood up looking as well-groomed as ever. When he turned, however, Thor saw several strands of his hair near the back of his head were still tangled together, sticking out in matted knots.  
  
Loki took a step towards the door, then halted, his stiffness making way for sudden awkwardness. Thor got up and made his way around the bed, determined he shouldn't leave till he knew why he was so upset. Regret he could handle, even rejection, but the uncertainty was killing him by inches.  
  
As soon as they were face to to face and Loki deigned to look at him, three things became crystal clear.  
  
First, Loki could barely hold himself together. His carefully contained but volatile temper was radiating right through his calm facade, and if forced to stay, it was only a matter of time till he would explode. Thor was shocked he could tell: usually his brother could hide his outbursts till the last minute.  
  
Second, his eyes were wide and unusually bright, and most importantly, entirely light. It seemed unlikely they could ever appear so black as they had before, no matter how dark the room.  
  
Third, he was trembling.  
  
Thor suddenly found it painful to breathe. "I did hurt you."  
  
Loki shook his head. _You did,_ the pale eyes chimed.  
  
"I should go," was what he said out loud in a thin, strained voice. "We will speak later."  
  
"Before you go—"  
  
But Loki was already striding towards the door, not allowing the unusual wobble to his gait to slow him down. The door into the hallway opened and slammed shut with resonance.  
  
Thor stood place for a moment longer, then rushed after him, but when he swung the door open he found the hallway already abandoned.

 

* * *

  
  
He had just enough presence of mind left to dive back inside and finish dressing, foregoing armour for speed, before heading to Loki's rooms, the blood rushing through his head muting out the sound of his footsteps. The door was unlocked, and the rooms beyond empty and, as far as he could tell, unvisited.  
  
It was what he had expected, really.  
  
He had two options, and he immediately dismissed going about his day as though nothing had happened in favour of trawling every sensible and most of the less sensible locations in the palace in search of Loki. Something was deeply wrong, something beyond mere second thoughts at their shared night, and it wasn't something he could allow to fester.  
  
He had gone so far as scaled the outer walls, finding the roof as disappointingly bereft of Loki as the rest of the palace, when another possibility hit him. His first assumption had been that his brother would wish to be alone, but if that weren't the case, it was obvious where he would go. He jumped down, ignoring the curious looks he received from a pair of guards patrolling the outskirts of the palace, and strode back inside and towards Frigga's rooms.  
  
His mother spent most of her mornings in her chambers, occupying herself with simple spells or handiwork. When they had been children, he had often found Loki hanging around her skirts as though he had nothing better to do. It had been countless years since, of course, but even if Loki wasn't there now, Frigga could surely offer him some counsel to set his mind at ease.  
  
The thought distracted him enough that he all but collided with Lady Sif.  
  
"Lady Sif." He raised his hand to steady her. "Is something the matter?"  
  
She straightened herself, uncertainty and determination warring in her eyes. "Have you seen Loki?"  
  
The knot in his stomach tightened. "I am searching for him as we speak."  
  
She drew a deep breath, determination winning over, then pulled him to the side.  
  
"I will make this short. I felt last night I have handled the situation poorly, so I woke up early today meaning to tell you all I know. When I came over to find you," her already low voice lowered still, "I saw him rushing from the direction of your rooms."  
  
The ground tilted underneath him. When he met her eyes, however, he saw no immediate condemnation in them, only friendly concern.  
  
"Was he there?" she asked.  
  
"He was." He was so very fed up with lies.  
  
"Did he try to put a spell on you?"  
  
"No."  
  
She looked relieved. "And he couldn't have succeeded at drugging you at such an early hour, either."  
  
He had answered the question without thinking, and was already nodding again when he began to wonder. Could he have been charmed? Not then, but at a earlier time, giving rise to the feelings that till then had been content to remain secret even from himself? But then, the one who had been acting strangely the previous night hadn't been him...  
  
A sudden sharp coldness, like a frost giant squeezing his innards, caught his breath.  
  
"It's not me," he said at once, putting a stop to whatever point Lady Sif had been about to make next. "It's himself he drugged."  
  
She fell utterly still and stared. "I thought—"  
  
She groped for words and found none, her expression twisting. When she next spoke, she echoed Thor's thoughts exactly. _"Why?"_  
  
"I don't know." Instead of trying to find an answer, he began to view his own actions with a terror that threatened to swallow him whole. "But I have done something monstrous."  
  
Before Lady Sif could give words to the horror dawning on her face, the sound of a distant explosion rang in the air. They swivelled their heads to see a plume of icy vapour rising from the Bifrost, dispersing into the air as quick as thought.  
  
That was all the cue Thor needed. He took hold of Mjölnir and set towards the bridge at top speed, Lady Sif hurrying after him.

 

* * *

  
  
"You should not travel at this time."  
  
The words were less an utterance and more a carving entrenched into stone, permanent and decisive. Heimdall looked past Loki as he spoke them, as though addressing not him but some invisible companion of his.  
  
Loki willed himself to remain calm despite the screams crawling up his throat. "Why is that? Has there been a malfunction?"  
  
"Not as such."  
  
"Then there is no reason why I shouldn't travel to Midgard." Good. As long as he kept his thoughts squarely on the present argument, he could keep the crushing force threatening to tear him to pieces at bay. Not even Heimdall could see the cold sweat running down his neck or the way his heart pounded against his ribcage as if waiting to burst.  
  
"I have reason to suspect allowing it would result in great harm to what I have sworn to protect."  
  
Loki stood to his full height and adopted the most imperious tone he could muster. "I am a prince of Asgard, and if I wish to travel, I may do so regardless of your qualms. Now let me pass."  
  
This, finally, made Heimdall focus the full blast of his golden eyes on him. His gaze was neither hateful nor aggrieved, but nor was it about to budge an inch. "In all of Asgard, only the All-Father himself may command me to step aside when I do not choose to do so myself."  
  
Under most circumstances, such obstinacy would have made Loki consider replacing Heimdall's sword with a snake and hiding the real one at the top of particularly tall tree. As it were, he began instead plotting means to have him removed from his post, preferably followed by his execution. "If not Midgard, then some other realm. It makes no difference."  
  
Heimdall made no comment. His eyes continued to say _no._  
  
"I see how it is." Given enough time to prepare, Loki could walk through anything, but it was always easier to mimic water and find the path of least resistance. There were other ways out of Asgard, hidden paths between the Nine Worlds he had discovered in ancient texts and kept secret from everyone else. The means didn't matter as long as he got away.  
  
He turned to leave when a firm, steady hand clapped onto his shoulder. He turned backed, amazed by the audacity, but not a single muscle twitched on Heimdall's face as he held him in place.  
  
"What you do once you leave the Bifrost is out of my hands," he said, tightening his grip, "nor will I keep you here if it is against your will. All the same, I must remind you that my oath is to hold the safety of the Aesir close to my heart. That includes yours."  
  
Loki wrenched himself free and took a step back though Heimdall made no effort to recapture him. "Empty words. You have never liked me."  
  
"That doesn't mean I wish you harm." When Heimdall continued, it was in a softer tone. "I will not force upon you what you would not have, but if you require aid, you shall receive it."  
  
Loki was about to sneer when realisation struck. When, precisely, had he last made sure Heimdall's gaze wasn't on him?  
  
Early on the previous night. Too early.  
  
He looked up. Heimdall's eyes were as perfectly focused as always, their far-reaching sight gazing down with the calmness of one who had seen all. Somewhere behind his usual stoicism, however, shone an emotion Loki had never associated with the watchman of the gods before, and it took him a moment to understand what it was.  
  
Pity.  
  
He allowed his anguish to possess him. It manifested as magic, powerful magic flowing through and filling him. He raised his hand and unleashed it at once.

 

* * *

  
  
Thor landed near the dome with practised ease, only to almost immediately lose his footing. He staggered back on his feet, staring down to see the Bifrost covered in inch-thick rime, so cold the icy mist emanating from it rose up to his knees. Adjusting to the slippery surface, he rushed inside the dome.  
  
Inside, Loki and Heimdall were circling the pedestal in full-blown combat. Rather, one was in full-blown combat: Heimdall made no move to strike, only blocking attacks with his blade. His expression was drawn and determined, and the movement of his eyes told Thor he was looking for an opening to subdue Loki without injuring him, but was finding it difficult due to his opponent's erratic behaviour.  
  
Loki, meanwhile, didn't seem to care if his attacks hit or missed their mark. He was slinging spells with a crazed look in his, in such a far cry from his usual illusions and calculated fighting style that even if Thor had had no other reasons to stop the fight, it alone would have made him intervene.  
  
He stepped forward. A bolt of ice whirred past and just barely missed his ear. "Loki!"  
  
Loki dropped his hand, the spell he had been about to cast fizzling out. Both he and Heimdall turned to stare.  
  
Thor lowered Mjölnir and held his open palm towards Loki in a peaceable gesture. _There is no need to fight, brother._  
  
He approached Loki cautiously, like he would a skittish animal, taking in the full devastation his spells had wrought. Half the dome was encrusted in heavy magical ice, as sturdy and unyielding as metal. The interior could have almost passed for a cave in Jotunheim.  
  
Heimdall desisted and stood back, remaining prepared to leap back into the fray. Loki glowered at Thor with growing suspicion, yet did not act. He was unarmed for the time being, but Thor knew from experience how quickly he could whip out a pair of concealed daggers when cornered. Still, two steps more, and he could leap forward and pin Loki to the ground, ensuring no-one would get hurt.  
  
Just as he took the penultimate step, Loki's narrowed eyes opened wide, and he recoiled, holding his hand towards Thor as a shield. "Stay away from me!"  
  
Thor froze, guilt momentarily subsuming his determination.  
  
Loki took advantage of the situation to back away, all the way to the wall. He raised his hand once more and he summoned a barrier of ice between them. It rose in seconds, so thick it obscured all but his silhouette from sight.  
  
"Loki!" Thor lunged forward, ready to smash the ice to pieces if he had to. Regardless of what he had done, this couldn't go on.  
  
As he raised his hammer, several things happened at once. There was a clatter to his left as a sword hit the frozen floor, followed by a sharp, heavy thud as Heimdall fell down to his knees next to it. When Thor turned his head to see what had happened, a desperate pair of hands grabbed his wrist and jerked him aside.  
  
A jagged icicle glanced off his upper arm, tearing through his skin and biting into his flesh. If he hadn't been dragged from its path, it would have pierced his lungs.  
  
Stunned by the sudden pain, his fingers loosened around Mjölnir's shaft. The hammer slipped from his grasp and landed with a loud crack as it shattered the surface of the ice.  
  
He struggled to keep his balance, ignoring the burn of his arm as best he could the same moment Lady Sif let go of him. She reached for her blade, only to have it blasted from her hand by a well-aimed dagger. Drops of bright blood joined Mjölnir on the ice.  
  
Thor looked up to see Loki lowering his throwing hand. He had been faster finding arms: He held Heimdall's sword to his side, and gave it a quick inspection before pointing it towards Thor. To his right, the vague silhouette beyond the ice evaporated like the illusion it had been.  
  
"Now, then." Loki's heavy breathing belied his collected tone, as did the manic gleam in his eyes as he steadied the sword with white knuckles. "May I travel in peace, or do I have to kill you first?"  
  
"That is enough."  
  
They all turned to see Frigga standing at the entrance of the dome, flanked by two stone-faced guards. She let go off her skirts to fold her arms, casting at Loki a look of such disapproval it was a miracle he didn't turn to stone on the spot.  
  
"Well?" she asked when none of them moved. "Will you not threaten to kill me as well?"  
  
While Loki continued to stare, Heimdall rose slowly from the floor behind him, eerily silent for all his bulky armour. He looked confused, his eyes hazier than Thor had ever seen them before.  
  
They focused fast.  
  
A moment later, the sword clattered onto the ground as the ice began to thaw.

 

* * *

  
  
"It's fine, Mother."  
  
"Let me look at it, regardless."  
  
Feeling no desire to argue with her, Thor held still and let Frigga tend to his wounded arm as she saw fit. The cut was shallow, but it was true that without magical healing it would throb for days to come.  
  
As Frigga knitted his flesh back together, he had time to marvel at just how efficiently she had taken the situation under control. Heimdall had been attended to and found to be virtually unharmed, his initial disorientation gone in a matter of minutes. He had been sheepish about being caught unawares, and had accepted the heartfelt gratitude due to him with a single curt nod. The guards she had brought with her had been sent to escort Lady Sif and her mangled hand to the healers, with an understanding that they were to keep what they had seen to themselves. The Bifrost looked good as new, and as long as no word got out, the incident on the bridge could be brushed aside with no lasting consequences.  
  
The thought made Thor glance past Frigga and through the open door leading to her bedchamber. He could just about make out Loki sprawled on the bed, pulled under by a sleeping spell which against all odds he had agreed to without a single protest. Thor had barely had the energy to be surprised.  
  
"There." Frigga let go of his arm and gently placed it on the table between them. "Do you have other injuries?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I'm glad." Her eyes followed Thor's, her brow knitting as they reached her sleeping second-born. "What could possibly lead him to act in such a manner?"  
  
For all the sunlight pooling into the room, Thor shivered. "You should ask him."  
  
"I shall." Her tone told him at once that there was no use trying to evade the question further, and indeed, she turned back towards him. "Has anything unusual happened since we last spoke?"  
  
Thor looked at her, the woman who had given birth to him and raised him — raised both of them — and knew he owed her an answer. The question which remained was whether it would be truth.  
  
"I slept with him."  
  
He knew he shouldn't have said it even before the words stopped echoing in the room, impossibly loud and clear.  
  
Frigga's expression didn't shift an inch.  
  
"I see." Her tone was completely neutral. It was as though he had just told her his favourite armour needed polishing.  
  
"What I mean is—"  
  
"I know what you meant." She didn't raise her voice, but the words themselves were enough to make Thor fall silent.  
  
They sat still for what felt like hours, listening to the birdsong streaming in.  
   
Finally, she buried her face in her hands and let out a long, strangled sigh. "How?"  
  
A part of Thor, the part that so hated keeping secrets, was almost relieved to confess his feelings, even if his account was by necessity light on detail. The rest of him couldn't help but see how despondent Frigga grew at each passing word.  
  
When he finished, she turned to stare at the window for so long that he began to wonder if he should leave. Perhaps she would, after making sure Loki didn't get arrested for his rampage, ensure her eldest son got imprisoned instead.  
  
Nothing of the sort happened. Instead, she asked: "How many people know of this?"  
  
"Lady Sif." She had surely put the pieces together by then. "And Heimdall." He saw all, after all. It also explained Loki's assault on him.  
  
"Anyone else?"  
  
"I don't believe so."  
  
"Very well." Somehow, Frigga looked older than she had a mere moment before. "That is few enough people that it may remain a secret."  
  
Thor stared down at his clasped hands. "What happens now?"  
  
"I believe it's for the best if your father never hears about this incident," Frigga began, carefully. "As for me, I would be happy to forget about it as soon as possible and assume nothing of the sort will ever reoccur."  
  
Thor nodded numbly. Frigga's words had a clear finality to them, one he couldn't blame her for.  
  
"However..." Her second sigh was, if possible, even more resigned than the first. "I cannot control your hearts. You must do what you believe is right."  
  
Thor halted mid-nod to stare at her. He decided he hadn't heard what he thought he had, and that asking for clarification was sure to hurt her more than remaining silent was.  
  
"Am I still your son?" he asked instead.  
  
For the first time since his confession, Frigga met his eyes directly. "You are. You both are. Nothing can change that."  
  
While he was still deciding on how to best put his love and thankfulness into words, she rose from her seat. "You may stay here if you wish. I need some fresh air and time alone to think."  
  
Thor blinked. "Are you leaving me alone with him?"  
  
She turned back with a sudden hint of amusement around her eyes. "Can I not trust you around him, then?"  
  
He relaxed, his gratefulness multiplying. "Of course you can."  
  
She nodded once, in a perfunctory manner, then left him alone in the bright room with his muddled thoughts.  
  
Thor took a deep breath. There it was. What had happened felt official, somehow, inescapable in a way it hadn't been before.  
  
He agreed with Frigga that it was better if Odin never found out. The All-Father cultivated his patience carefully, but what had passed between him and Loki was sure to rouse his wrath. If anything, he was surprised she hadn't been angrier, too — assuming she hadn't left to destroy targets on the training grounds.  
  
As for how Thor himself felt... above all else, he was exhausted in a way the little physical exertion of the day couldn't come close to explaining. Perhaps he too could have used a long, forced nap.  
  
As he thought this, Loki turned in his sleep, mumbling something to himself.  
  
Thor hesitated, then got up and walked over to the bedchamber, pulling up a chair to watch over him. Though his eyes were firmly shut, Loki looked like he was trying to desperately come up with the meaning of life on the spot, his breathing growing more and more laboured as he tossed his head from side to side, not unlike his agitation that morning.  
  
Just as Thor rose to wake him before he bit his tongue off, his eyes fluttered open on their own accord. He stared dully at the ceiling for a while before noticing Thor.  
  
"Oh. I thought you might be here." His voice was thick and slurred as he struggled against the sleeping spell.  
  
Thor stood fully up. "I will leave you be. You should return to sleep."  
  
"So soon?" Loki giggled in a child-like pitch that made the hairs on the back of Thor's neck stand on end.  
  
He sat back down. He was unlikely to get lucid answers at that point, but he could at least try. "I'm sorry, Loki."  
  
Loki tried to look at him and missed the mark by several inches. "For what?"  
  
"For last night. I should have noticed you weren't yourself."  
  
He had to stop there, the blood-curdling shame from before returning with vengeance. It was true that if Loki had acted as far gone as he did right then, he would never have thought to lay a finger on him, but if he was truthful with himself, there had been plenty of signs that something was wrong during the night as well. Everything from Loki's eyes to his words to his abnormal passivity had stated the same thing, and he had been all too happy to ignore it all.  
  
He squeezed his hands into fists, despising himself. "I failed you."  
  
Loki closed his eyes. "Did you, now?"  
  
"Aye, I did." It was too soon to ask for absolution, but he did so anyway. "Can you forgive me?"  
  
No answer was forthcoming. When he looked down, he saw it was due to the sleeping spell winning out. Loki was once more dead to the world, his earlier anxiety wiped from his brow. He looked almost peaceful.  
  
Thor leaned back in his chair, all his exhaustion piling up on him all at once. There was nothing to it now but waiting, and though normally he hated nothing so much as being unable to take action, he was happy to close his eyes just for a moment.

 

* * *

  
  
When he next awoke, the sun had already set, and Frigga was gently but firmly shaking him by the shoulder.

Loki was no longer lying on the bed. One look at his mother's face told him she didn't know where he was any more than he did.  
  
For all his recent experience with sleepless nights, the following one was the longest of them all.


	9. Heat Haze

_"You were drugged." Her voice had been quiet and halting throughout, but now, Lady Sif sounded more like her shadow than herself. "You are not to blame."_  
  
_At length, Thor found himself back in his body. How long had he stared into the distance unable to utter a single word? "Again."_  
  
_She began anew, dragging out the syllables like spikes from a wound. It made no difference: her recollection, though no doubt accurate, was based almost exclusively on sound. It brought forth no images or sensations he hadn't already claimed, of tears and flames and unspeakable violence._  
  
_Violence he had committed. Not in a nightmare, as he had lied to himself, but with his own two hands, against his own little brother._  
  
_His own—_  
  
_He didn't notice Lady Sif had risen from her seat till her bandaged hand was resting on his arm. "Thor, it is in no way your fault. You weren't yourself."_  
  
_Thor couldn't respond at first. When he did, it felt like scraping out the last of his hollowed out insides. "And neither was he."_  
  
_His words were indistinct, muddling two separate events, but from the way her face fell, Lady Sif understood all too well. "Yes. Well."_  
  
_The first rays of morning sunlight gleamed off the distant towers visible through the window when she spoke once more, in a gentle voice one might use around an invalid. "We all have urges within ourselves we are ashamed of. Being forced to obey one doesn't make you responsible."_  
  
_Thor barely heard her. His mind was far away, back at Loki's tear-streaked face, and then at his expression from when he had awoken the morning before._  
  
_"It may be a cold comfort, but," her words went softer still, like a faraway echo, "I know you, Thor. You never meant to hurt him."_  
  
_She was trying to smile, he supposed. He couldn't tell from the mist shrouding his eyes._

 

* * *

  
Thor gazed into the horizon, seeing little but clouds of reddish dust in the distance. "How many?"  
  
Hogun, who had climbed up the nearest volcanic cliff, peered ahead. "Eighteen. No, twenty."  
  
"Can we make it through the pass before they reach us?"  
  
Hogun shook his head as he landed back on the plain and took his place in their formation. "Unlikely."  
  
"Then we shall wait for them here." Thor was already wielding Mjölnir — the previous night's ambush had proven that they should hold onto their weapons at all times —  so all that remained was to take a few steps towards what still look like a deserted plain and prepare for the assault.  
  
Behind him, Fandral groaned. "When will they let up?"  
  
"When we stop trespassing on their lands?" Volstagg suggested.  
  
"Even then, you would think they would understand they are doing themselves more harm by harrying us than they would letting us search in peace."  
  
Usually, this was the point where Lady Sif pointed out that fire giants were known for neither cunning tactics nor mercy, but this time, she said nothing. When Thor glanced over his shoulder, he saw her eyes were fixed on a nearby strand of magma threatening to rise above ground, like a subterranean river of embers. Likely she, much like Thor, was tiring of the ever-changing but somehow interchangeable sights of Muspelheim, as well as the hordes of giants crawling up from their underground lairs to attack them.  
  
"A lot of trouble to recover a single artifact," Fandral groused when his previous comment went unremarked. No-one responded to this one either besides an acknowledging grunt from Volstagg.  
  
Thor was almost glad to see the fire giants emerging from the horizon, sparing him the heartache of having to think about why they were in Muspelheim in the first place. They rose stark against the sulphuric backdrop of the sky, like walking effigies set aflame, lumbering in their movements but treacherously fast when one least expected it.  
  
He braced himself in anticipation, then frowned. "What are they doing?"  
  
As Lady Sif and the Warriors Three fell silent and attended, one of the slouching figures, whose sudden slowdown had first caught Thor's attention, halted completely and stood in place, as if in hesitation. Thor had just begun to wonder if it meant to retreat when it raised its arms high above its head.  
  
A massive ball of flames, like a small sun, appeared between the giant's outstretched hands. The giant lobbed it forward, and it careened through the air, fast as a comet, aimed squarely at Thor.  
  
He stared into the raging inferno rushing towards him. If he wished to escape it, he had to move at once.  
  
Instead, he swung Mjölnir back.  
  
As soon as he did so, the flames were upon him. He struck at them.  
  
There was a thunderous crack as the hammer collided with the solid core of the fireball. A myriad of sparks flew in all directions, singing his arm and face, but he barely felt them or the white flames licking at his hand.  
  
Then, just as quickly, they were gone. The ball flew backwards, propelled straight towards it creator by the impact.  
  
"Can fire harm them?" asked Volstagg just as the ball crashed into the approaching giants.  
  
There was a resounding explosion that shook the ground and raised the dust into billowing, swirling clouds. When they thinned enough for Thor to see through them, half the giants had collapsed into a smouldering heap.  
  
"Aye." He quickly checked himself to ensure his hair wasn't on fire, then widened his stance. "Here they come."  
  
And so they did. The first of the attackers ran directly towards him, presenting it dark, ox-like skull alive with flames as the perfect target. A single strike send it plummeting backwards, where it remained.  
  
The second fire giant on him just as he was done bashing the first, shoving him against the cliff with a brutal unarmed strike sure to leave burning welts in its wake. He managed to land back on his feet, but before he could muster a counterstrike, Hogun and Fandral had already leapt to his rescue. The next moment, the giant was no more.  
  
The Aesir were still outnumbered seven to five, but they met the challenge with their heads held high. Thor smote another giant with a strike to its shin. As it fell, he positioned himself to watch Volstagg's back, thwarting another assailant aiming for his flank. Though death loomed behind a single misstep, his pulse sang every time he swung.  
  
It was towards the end of the battle, when his friends had the last two foes cornered and he himself had only just destroyed the largest of the giants, struggling for breath in the heatwave rising from its corpse, that a new presence suddenly materialised somewhere him.  
  
He spun around, ready to strike. After seeing who it was, he re-aimed the swing towards the ground.  
  
"A message for you, Your Highness," the member of the Asgardian royal guard said with perfect nonchalance, as though she hadn't just found herself amidst dancing blades and flaming corpses. Not bad for someone who looked like a fresh recruit.  
  
Thor glanced at the lava bubbling forth where Mjölnir had cracked the ground's surface. "This is not the best of times." Still, he listened. It had to be urgent if Heimdall allowed anyone, even a soldier in full armour, to travel down before the battle was fully over.  
  
"It's from the All-Father, Your Highness. He wishes for you to cease your hunt and return to Asgard at once."  
  
"What?" He nearly turned to stare before his instincts made him instead swivel to the right to block a furious strike from the last remaining fire giant, who had made a desperate lunge away from the cliff and aimed at his head. He returned the favour and sent the giant's still flaming skull flying.  
  
"What of the artifact?" he asked as the fire giant's headless body jerked around, as though it was yet controlled by a consciousness. It fell still twitching amongst its comrades.  
  
"It is it no longer here. Lord Heimdall caught sight of the t— I mean, of the artifact in Alfheim."  
  
Thor lowered his arms and stared at the massacre they had caused, all but numb to the sight. How did Loki keep travelling across the Nine Worlds like he was simply traipsing from one room to another? Presumably it was with the aid of the artifact he had taken, but neither Odin nor Frigga had mentioned it could do anything of the sort.  
  
Volstagg and Fandral sighed as one man when he told them it was time to leave, but apart from that there were no questions or protests. No doubt everyone was eager to leave Muspelheim with its sweltering heat and endless hordes of enraged giants behind.  
  
Still, it was with a lingering, regretful look behind him that he called on Heimdall to take them home.

 

* * *

  
  
Odin waited for him by the gate of Bifrost, in full regal splendour and Gungnir in hand. He did not speak as he headed towards a private chamber, expecting Thor to follow without being told so.  
  
"I wish for you to cease your hunt," he said when they were finally alone, with the air of a solemn proclamation.  
  
At first, Thor was sure he had misheard. "We have a new lead, Father. I'm sure—"  
  
Odin gave him a warning glance that quickly softened as he sighed. "Others will continue the search. Your brother will be found eventually."  
  
Thor nodded, stunned Odin had discarded the fiction that it was only the artifact they were seeking rather than the thief himself, and yet more by the sorrow in his voice. Loki's name had barely been uttered since Frigga had taken it to herself to explain the chaos he had caused and his subsequent disappearance, and Thor was thankful for it: had Odin chosen to interrogate him on the topic, he may well have blurted out the truth as he had with her.  
  
Odin seated himself, leaning heavily against Gungnir as he did so. The ever-present lines around his eyes had deepened into far-reaching ridges in recent weeks. The loss of his second son had been, if not a clean strike, then like a slow-acting poison, sapping him of his vitality.  
  
"I am not asking this of you on a whim," he said. His voice had not suffered from the sudden onset of eld: it still rang clear across the chamber. "I wish for you to remain here to take my place as King. By the end of the week, assuming nothing stands in its way."  
  
The words struck Thor as though the fire giants' ball of flames had finally connected.  
  
"I meant to wait for some years, but with the current circumstances being what they are, you must learn rulership as fast as possible," Odin continued. He turned the full glare of his lone, far-seeing eye away from his spear and towards Thor. "I believe you are ready to shoulder the responsibility."  
  
Thor swallowed his protest in the last moment. He felt anything but prepared, especially when he thought of the long conversation he had held with Lady Sif on the night after Loki's disappearance. But then, how could he proclaim his doubts when he looked at his father and saw the cracks in his usually overwhelming presence?  
  
Odin stood up. "Will you follow in my footsteps?"  
  
Thor nodded once, with great determination, and the smile that rose to his father's lips very nearly distracted him from the stab to his heart.

 

* * *

  
  
He spent the rest of the week going through the motions, feeling as though a layer of fog had fallen between him and the world.  
  
Even his coronation, though grand with ceremony, barely registered. The shape of Gungnir felt odd to his hands when Odin handed it to him, heavier than he could ever have guessed. It was strange to think that a mere month ago he had anticipated the very moment as the fulfillment of a lifetime.  
  
Little changed with Odin's subsequent retirement into Odinsleep. Thor did what was expected of him, attempting to internalise his new responsibilities, but couldn't help but note that he was very successful.  
  
Sometimes, he could from thinking of Loki for almost an hour, but it was always a matter of time till saw the empty spot in his entourage, or the chair he would have sat on, or simply his favourite shade of green on a tapestry, and suddenly the absence turned into a gaping void, worse yet for the way it mingled with a kind of relief.  
  
There was never any big announcement that the second prince of Asgard had fled the realm, only the vague murmurings and rumours that always arose on such occasions. The most common of these was that Loki had merely set off to explore the Nine Worlds as young people with few responsibilities were wont to do, a view which the royal house quietly but deliberately endorsed. In time, the Aesir moved onto new topics of discussion. Soon enough, a visitor could be forgiven for assuming the realm had never had more than one prince.  
  
In fact, Thor managed to be king for nearly an entire month before Frigga sought him out and he heard Loki's name uttered out loud for the first time in well over a week.  
  
She spoke as soon as they had found a quiet spot to talk, which Thor recognised with grim amusement as the same alcove they had conversed in what then felt like a lifetime ago. "Heimdall has seen Loki in Nidavellir."  
  
Thor said nothing and squeezed Gungnir's shaft hoping if he pressed hard enough, it would transform into Mjölnir. All sightings of Loki had vanished almost simultaneously to Thor's return to Asgard, and he suspected he had found a way to evade Heimdall's gaze for good. Why, then, would he make his presence known?  
  
The realisation dawned on him just as Frigga continued. "More than once during the last few hours, as a matter of fact. Always roughly in the same place."  
  
An invitation, then. But an invitation to what?  
  
As he pondered this, Frigga turned towards the courtyard, looking not at the garden, but the distant skies. Her expression was unreadable.  
  
"What do you think I should do?" he finally asked.  
  
This got her attention, and even a quick smile. "I didn't think you would ask for my counsel."  
  
"I am king now. It is my duty to receive advice."  
  
"You have grown." Though pride shimmered in her eyes, the overall impression remained downcast. "What would you do if you were not king?"  
  
"I would go find him." Though Loki was entirely justified if he wished to see him  never again, Thor couldn't bear the thought the last time they had ever spoken had been while he was so deeply sedated he barely remembered his own name.  
  
"Perhaps you should do just that, then."  
  
He stared her in amazement. Surely he was hearing things.  
  
But no, Frigga's expression was entirely earnest, and she held Thor's gaze without the slightest hesitation. "I have ruled in your father's stead many times. It will not be a burden to do it in your place as well. Go find him, and tell him all is forgiven and that we long to see him once more."  
  
Thor's feet itched to get moving, but he subdued the urge with great effort. "Would Father agree with that?"  
  
"He will." She hesitated. "He should also know we wish to tell him something we should have told him a long time ago, but above all, let him know that come what may, he belongs here."  
  
"Even if..." He couldn't finish the sentence. The reason behind Loki's disappearance was still an open wound, and giving it words was like twisting a knife in it.  
  
Frigga shook her head. "My chief concern is that you are both alive and safe. The remainder—" Her words petered out as she looked away, and when she continued it was with a different topic and a laboured tone of voice. "If he does not wish to return, that is his prerogative, but he should know that the gates of Asgard are always open to him."  
  
It was at that very moment, when his apprehension fully gave way to hope, that Thor understood just how much he loved his mother.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"You say that as though I wish for his return solely for your sake." Frigga's tone was light, but when she turned to leave, Thor could have sworn he saw tears in her eyes.

 

* * *

  
  
Heimdall let Thor and his companions pass without a word, not even to ask where they were headed. Why would he ask, when he could read Thor's aim from his expression alone?  
  
He waited for them to assume their places within the dome, then approached the pedestal with his usual gravity. He was already holding his sword aloft when he turned his attention towards Thor.  
  
"I have not seen him for the past two hours." His voice like the rumble of thunder.  
  
Thor nodded. He felt so much lighter already, even with the heavy weight of Mjölnir back on his belt. "You are not to blame if we cannot find him."  
  
Heimdall nodded back, but with a frown that suggested Thor had missed the true aim of his comment. He would have to ask about it the next time they found themselves alone.  
  
In any case, Heimdall positioned the blade, then turned towards Thor one final time. "I wish you luck on your quest."  
  
Thor met his calm, utterly sincere gaze, and nodded back with a smile.  
  
He was still smiling as the Bifrost send them plummeting into space.

 

* * *

  
  
Neither the dwarves nor Loki's last known location revealed many clues, but they persisted, ultimately trekking into the great wilderness of Nidavellir. They journeyed first on horseback and then on foot as the land grew too treacherous for steeds, making their way across stony plains and the ruins of long forgotten kingdoms.  
  
It was only when they set camp for the night that Thor found the journey a struggle. To keep himself from thinking about why Loki would make it so difficult for them if he truly wished to be found, he focused instead on Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, their faces dyed orange by the flames of their campfire. Not once had they spoken of the goal of their adventure, telling instead stories and jokes about the boots Volstagg had nearly lost in a bog two days after they had set off, but they all knew what they sought. He knew then how much he cherished them, and how good they were to follow him on this wild goose chase once more.  
  
It was on one such night, just as Thor looked up at the overcast sky and the downpour it threatened and thought that the least he could do to reward their loyalty was to ensure they returned home safely, that Hogun suddenly stood up and walked towards the foot of a mountain that loomed not far into the darkness. Before any of them could ask questions, he drove his hand within his armour and retrieved the amulet hanging from his neck. The Vanaheimian runes glowed like will-'o-the-wisps.  
  
"It sometimes does this in Asgard, as well," he said as Thor and the others clustered around him to inspect the runes. "But why now?"  
  
"Say..." Lady Sif wrenched her gaze from the runes and turned towards the mountain. "Was the stolen artifact not also from Vanaheim?"  
  
The murmur of agreement grew as they saw the closer to the mountain Hogun brought the pendant, the brighter it glowed.  
  
Volstagg sighed. "I sorely hope we don't have to climb that Norn-forsaken thing in the darkness."     
  
"We should inspect the foot of it, first." Thor tossed his cape behind his back and walked towards, heedless of the pitch blackness he soon found himself in.  
  
It didn't last long, as his friends soon joined him with torches made from the hastily put out fire. They explored the base of the mountain as one group, and were thus together when they found the cave leading within it.  
  
Thor halted, impressed. The cave may have been naturally formed, but it had clearly been worked on by skilled dwarf artisans: the entrance had been hewn into a rectangular shape and decorated with elaborate geometrical carvings. An image of a crossed sword and smith's hammer had been embossed into the granite above the gate, enjoined by several lines in ancient Nidavellian script which none of them could read and thus ignored.  
  
What they couldn't ignore, however, was the growing greenish glow from within the cave, not unlike that of Hogun's pendant. They raised their weapons just in time for the spectre to emerge to the entrance.  
  
The apparition was well over seven feet tall, and ever so slightly translucent, with a kind of smokiness to its features. It wore a full helmet and a light breastplate emblazoned with swans of the kind in fashion in Vanaheim long before Thor's time, from back around their ancient wars with Asgard. In its hand it carried a naked, curved blade, as ethereal as its owner.  
  
Fandral, who had been standing directly behind Thor, now side-stepped to line up with the ghostly warrior, his weapon raised. "Are we meant to fight this thing?"  
  
Before Thor could answer, the apparition lowered its sword and raised its other hand in a warding gesture. Slowly, moving more like a mechanical doll than a ghost, it turned its eyeless gaze towards Thor. Equally slowly, it moved its hand to point at him.  
  
"A challenge to a duel?" asked Volstagg, hushed.  
  
Lady Sif frowned. "That, or it wants him to go with it."  
  
Clenching Mjölnir's shaft, Thor stepped towards the apparition. "Then go I shall."  
  
A ripple of shock coursed through his friend.  
  
Fandral was the first to object out loud. "It may well be a trap."  
  
"You would be risking your life," Lady Sif agreed, with a heavy weight to her words. His friends had always tried to steer him away from deeds too daring, but now that he was king, it was more than his life at stake.  
  
And yet... "If I don't return by morning, call on Heimdall." When all four of began protesting anew with various degrees of vehemence, like a flurry of arrows aimed at his conscience, he waved them silent. "This is something I have to do."  
  
Hogun was the first to understand. He held out his torch towards Thor, and when Thor wouldn't take it, nodded curtly and backed away. Slowly, the rest joined him, still looking ready to strike at the apparition at once it gave them any due cause.  
  
Thor smiled at them. "I hope you can rekindle the flames."  
  
Only Fandral grinned back at the comment, and that smile too was like a snowflake in the summer. They stared after him as the apparition drifted down the winding cavern and he followed, gingerly looking for safe footholds on the dilapidated pathway.  
  
A small part of him, the one most eager to throw his weight against his opponents and summon down thunder, had half anticipated his eerie guide turning on him as soon as they vanished from view, but nothing of the sort happened. It guided him dutifully forward till they descended into a vast hall carved within the mountain, one guarded by several mostly intact stone statues. The centremost figure had a curiously undwarven appearance, but before Thor had much time to wonder about it, the spectre carried onwards towards the back end of the hall. Before Thor could catch up to it, it flickered and finally vanished from view as though it had never been more than a figment of his mind.  
  
His footsteps rang like death knells on the mosaic paving of the hall as he sought his own path, surprised he could see at all in what should have been utter darkness. The room led to a hallway, at the end of which a narrow beam of golden light shone forward like someone had stowed away the sun beyond poorly shut doors.  
  
Nothing to it, then. He walked across and pushed the doors aside.  
  
And stepped into the golden glow of the throne of Asgard.  
  
After his eyes adjusted to the light, he looked around to see the door behind him was gone. He groped the air where it had been and found the comforting presence of solid matter under his palm. It was only his eyes that were being deceived. An illusion. And that meant...  
  
"I thought you might come."  
  
He turned his gaze upwards.  
  
Upon the throne sat Loki, bedecked in more gold than Thor had ever seen him in, the long horns of his helmet gleaming in the reflected light. In his hand he held what was likely a replica of Gungnir, but which looked so authentic Thor wouldn't have been surprised to learn he had in fact stolen and replaced the real article before escaping Asgard. He gazed back at Thor without another word.  
  
As he approached, feeling more like a penitent seeking clemency than a king, Thor began to notice further details to convince himself he hadn't simply been unwittingly transported back home. The light was subtly different, brighter yet colder than by the real throne, and while the elaborately detailed floor looked similar, he had a hunch the patterns weren't quite identical to the real ones. Obviously, there was no sign of the pair of guards customarily watching the throne.  
  
He halted before the dais, keeping Mjölnir in hand just in case. "What is this place?"  
  
Loki viewed his reflection on the spear's shaft as though he found it a more interesting sight than his long-lost brother. "This is where Wayland the Smith fled after he had meted out his revenge. He founded his own kingdom here within the mountain with some dwarves wishing to learn the secrets of crafting he held. This was before they had mastered smithing to where the people of other worlds would not dream to challenge them, of course."  
  
Thor had never found the non-battle parts of the history of the Nine Worlds particularly interesting, and the name said little to him. He kept his peace.  
  
"Naturally, it didn't last." Loki stood up and descended from the dais with languid steps. "The dwarven kings were jealous of the interloper, and soon captured him to wring out his secrets and then execute him. Or attempted to, rather." He stepped down to Thor's level and regarded him coolly, keeping a marked distance from him. "To this day, not a soul knows where he fled."  
  
"And before he left, he decided to recreate a piece of Asgard?" Probably the real throne hadn't existed yet, if Loki's tale was of times as ancient as they sounded like, but Thor wanted to keep him talking. He had forgotten just how much he had missed the sound of his voice.  
  
Loki shrugged, tilting Gungnir as he did so. "I have made some small changes, but you already knew that." For the first time since Thor had entered to room, his expression betrayed something other than amusement and boredom: a hidden threat. "Why are you here?"  
  
_Because you wished for it._ But it wouldn't do to begin by attacking Loki's pride, which he guarded as fiercely as a dragon its hoard. He opted for the other truth. "To see you, brother."  
  
The corners of Loki's mouth twitched at the word. He swept past Thor and towards the invisible doors, his cape billowing as though they were standing in a gale. "Come. I have more to show you."  
  
Thor followed, frowning as he tried to see through Loki's plans. If he was leading him to an ambush, he was certainly taking his time to lull him into a false sense of security. There was still bitter tension between them, waiting to rise to the forefront like a monster through brittle spring ice, but even with it he found himself beginning to relax.  
  
Though they passed the point where Thor had entered, he found himself not back in the dark hallway, but still in the palace. He traced Loki's footsteps in growing amazement, awed by the sheer scope and meticulousness of the illusion, perfect but for the lack of people, till finally they were past the gates to the Bifrost. The bridge gleamed in its myriad colours underneath a canopy of stars and swirling galaxies.  
  
He took a deep breath at the sight, filled by a sudden longing. He hadn't been gone from home for long, but the realisation that Loki had likely been dwelling all alone in this simulacrum for weeks already made his heart ache with the desire to take his hand and return them both to the real Asgard at once.  
  
"What do you think?" Loki asked. For a flicker, Thor saw the same anticipation he had struggled to contain as a child when showcasing his newest spells.  
  
"Your powers have grown great."  
  
"It was nothing, really." Though Loki's expression didn't change as he turned his gaze towards the illusory skies, he couldn't quite keep his pleasure from his voice. "I have seen the original plenty of times, after all."  
  
Thor nodded. The longer he observed Loki, the more the pretence that they lived in a world where he had left Asgard to master his magic began to crack around the edges. He didn't know if he could hold it together, or even if he wished to do so.  
  
"I suppose congratulations are in order."  
  
Thor returned to the present moment. "What do you mean?"  
  
"You have ascended to the throne, no?"  
  
How could he possibly know that when Thor wore none of the trappings of kingship? A lucky guess, perhaps. "Aye, for now. I'm sure Father will retake the throne when he awakens." At least, that was what Thor had begun to hope. "But till then, it is you who is the crown prince."  
  
Loki smirked. "Though I'm in exile?"  
  
"It's a self-imposed one. You may return whenever you wish, and no blame will fall upon you." Frigga's earlier words returned to him. "Besides, Mother said she has something important to tell you."  
  
Loki looked away and made no reply.  
  
"And..." Thor had already bared his heart. He might as well do it again. "I miss you, Loki, and wish you would return."  
  
The skies went suddenly dark, as though all the stars had died out at once.  
  
Loki had gone very still, starkly drawn against what was now a black void. "Is that an order from my king?"  
  
Thor shuddered as though the chill of the outer space had found its way to his veins. "Of course not."  
  
"Then I shall stay here. I never did manage to carve myself a suitable space in Asgard, and I don't care for the shape it would take now."  
  
"I swear that what has passed between us will not affect your standing." It had only been a matter of time till one of them was forced to bring it up, but the words still tasted bitter on his tongue.  
  
The furrows on Loki's brow eased, but would not vanish. He turned back towards the Bifrost. "All I want is to be left in peace."  
  
He uttered the claim with calm confidence, with nothing about his straight back and folded arms which suggested falsehood. But Thor had a hunch, an instinct, that it was a lie all the same. Come what may, he couldn't abandon Loki to some murky cave to rule over a kingdom of shadows.  
  
Before he voiced his suspicions, Loki spun back around and walked past Thor. "I will show you the way out."  
  
He followed with hasty steps. "Asgard needs you."  
  
"It needs you, rather. Unless you are planning on forcing me to do something I have no desire for, I shall stay here."  
  
The words stung, like Loki had slipped a blade between his ribs. He halted dead in his tracks just by the gates. "I do not wish to force anything on you, brother." Never again.  
  
"Again with _brother._ It's a bit too late for that."  
  
"It doesn't have to be."  
  
Loki gave him a long, blank look. Then, he propped Gungnir against the gate and stepped directly before Thor. Before Thor could decide what he was sizing him up, for he grabbed him by the edges of his cape and pulled him forward into a forceful kiss.  
  
Fighting to keep his grip on Mjölnir, Thor allowed himself to be pushed against the gate, and after the initial amazement opened his mouth to allow Loki to slip his tongue further in. He could have fought him off with relative ease — the hold of his upper arms was precarious at best, and he knew from experience he was perfectly capable to picking Loki off his feet and dashing him aside — but no matter how his combat-honed instincts panicked over finding him cornered, he discovered all he wanted to was stay still and respond to the kiss.  
  
When Loki finally pulled away, he looked as winded as Thor felt. His eyes were dark, though not nearly as dark as they had been the last time they had kissed, and they regarded Thor with a kind of assessing intensity while he caught his breath.  
  
"It is now."  
  
Before Thor could respond, he let go just as abruptly as he had initially grabbed him, stepping back to gather Gungnir as though nothing had happened.  
  
Thor willed himself to remain still. His blood was on fire, and only his memories of past events and the guarded look on Loki's face kept him from reaching out and grabbing him into an embrace right there and then.  
  
Belatedly, he noticed the stars had returned.  
  
Loki waited for a moment longer. Then, satisfied either by Thor's expression or his silence, he began back towards the palace. Naturally, Thor followed.  
  
They returned to where they had begun without exchanging a single word. Once there, Thor was certain his audience was over, and glanced around, wondering exactly how he was meant to leave.  
  
"Wait."  
  
He turned back to find Loki holding what looked like a small metal lantern towards him. Its dark frame was finely wrought, and at its base he could see a long string of Vanaheimian runes.  
  
"I have no more use for it," Loki continued as Thor accepted the artifact, trying to puzzle out where Loki had kept it till then. "It may was well go back to gathering dust in the vault."  
  
He nodded. "May I come see you again?"  
  
"I won't be here for much longer."  
  
"Then I shall return soon."  
  
Loki smiled, if only for a moment. "Good luck ruling Asgard."  
  
He walked away from the throne and vanished behind the illusion, as though he was a spectre himself.  
  
Thor sought out his point of entrance and found himself back in the dark cave, with no other soul in sight. He made his way back to the surface.  
  
His friends had rebuilt their camp next to the cave's mouth. They swarmed him as soon as he stepped into fresh air, all relieved smiles and exclamations of joy with brought his grin back to his face as well.  
  
It was only after he had settled down by the new firepit that the conversation turned to the liberated artifact. Turning it around in the light gave no new clues for its use.  
  
Fortunately, Hogun had seen its kind before. "It projects illusions on walls." He squinted at the script around the base, then leaned back into the shadows. "They're usually intended as amusement for children."  
  
Thor nodded. None of them said it out loud, but they all thought the same thing: this was not the kind of treasure usually stored in Asgard's vaults.  
  
Fandral cast a look towards the cave. "Was the warrior's ghost made with it, I wonder?"  
  
"Likely so." Thor threw his cape over the artifact as the first drops of drizzle fell from the overcast sky. Holding the lantern against himself gave him a queasy feeling, like someone was whispering silent curses against his chest. If anyone had told him the artifact's powers came from a legion of spirits trapped within it, he would have believed them at once.  
  
"Surely his own illusions should have served him just as well," Fandral continued after no-one volunteered another suggestion.  
  
The same niggling thought followed Thor as they wrapped their belongings together, deciding to return home at once instead of braving what looked to be a miserable wet night. He could think of three possible explanations. One, this artifact was a mere decoy, taken to distract from another, monumental theft. Two, the lantern held a power beyond their ken, a likely thing if it truly was a treasure. Three — and this final thought made Thor's heart thump violently — the artifact itself had never mattered, and Loki had only taken it to ensure pursuit. If so, the fact he had given it back could well mean he was planning to disappear for good.  
  
He didn't dwell on it as he called up to Heimdall to bring them home, but as he looked around for a final time before the inexorable pull upwards, he vowed to return as soon as possible. Surely Loki would still be there if he didn't dally. Surely.


	10. To the Hearth

And somehow, against all odds, he was.  
  
Thor could scarcely believe it himself when two days later he ventured back alone, all but certain Loki had taken Wayland the Smith's lead and disappeared without a trace, only to find the illusory palace intact and occupied. His relief had been enough to make him weak in the knees.  
  
Loki was there the next time as well, and the time again after that, each time warning Thor he didn't plan to linger. Yet there he always waited, resplendent on his pretend throne, climbing down from the dais ever so slightly faster each time Thor sought his audience.  
  
The visits were mostly alike: they would walk around Loki's palace, with Thor trying and usually failing to find mistakes in the illusion, and discuss inconsequential things which now felt infinitely precious. The awkwardness which dominated the first few such walks slowly ebbed away as old familiarity took root. At times, Loki's shoulder brushed against his when they took a corner, but that was the full extent of their physical contact till towards the end, when Loki would sometimes lay hands on him and steal a quick kiss. It took everything Thor had learned of patience to keep it simply at that.  
  
Several rumours explaining the king's frequent absences circulated in Asgard. Some were less flattering, suggesting he chafed under the burden of kingship and travelled to distant lands to let off some steam by brawling like a common thug. The most convenient one, one he assumed Frigga might have begun to counteract the others, claimed Loki had settled elsewhere to study magic, and that Thor was simply visiting him as a good brother should. Only Heimdall, who seemed almost amused each time he sent Thor to Nidavellir, truly knew of anything that had passed. Thor was more grateful for his rectitude by the day.  
  
When he shared the rumours with Loki, a light danced in his brother's eyes which usually only appeared in relation to snake-themed pranks. It vanished the moment he suggested they return home together, replaced by a frosty silence. More than once he had to fight back the impulse to grab Loki and take him with him regardless of his opinion, knowing full well it would shatter the fragile trust that had grown between them. The knowledge didn't make it easier to say farewell when it was time to leave, nor to receive Loki's by then customary warning that he might be far away by the time he returned.  
  
It was thus with heavy steps he crossed the murky halls for the thirteenth time, eager to see Loki, but already aware he would have to leave again all too soon, with no guarantee of when he might be back.  
  
Loki was not on the throne when he entered. As he looked around, uncertain where to look for him, he emerged from its shadow, wearing his everyday robes for the first time since his flight. Thor didn't wonder long why he had abandoned his kingly finery, not when he felt the electricity in the air and especially not once Loki approached and, encircling his torso with his arms, leaned upwards to place a kiss on his half-open mouth.  
  
Thor reciprocated at once, all nerves and pure instinct, happily embracing Loki back before a jolt of recollection shook him awake and made him pull away.  
  
Loki held on, though without much force. "Is that a no?"  
  
He ignored the question and scrutinised instead his eyes. As clear and bright as the midday sky. He let out a sigh of relief. "Yes." Then, realising his mistake as Loki began to withdraw his hands, he hastily grabbed his wrists. "I mean, it's a yes."  
  
The disappointment morphed into a smirk as Loki twisted his hands to signal that he wished to have them released. When Thor obeyed, he reached up to cup his face on both sides, stroking his cheeks with gentle fingers before resuming their kiss, heavier and hungrier than any they had shared yet.  
  
Thor was happy enough to run his hands along Loki's body that he barely noticed he was tilting till his elbow hit a wall. Even then, as Loki pressed against him and guided him downwards, he went along with it, and soon found himself lying on his back with only his cape between him and the hard floor. The discomfort was all but forgotten as Loki straddled his hips, splaying his hands on his chest and leaned forward, looking equal parts sinister and seductive.  
  
"I expected you to resist by now."  
  
"I enjoy it." It was strange, lying prone in a vulnerable position, but exhilarating the same way Loki's kiss during his first visit to Nidavellir had been. Stranger yet, he found himself wholly trusting Loki not to suddenly change his mind and stab him, at least for the moment.  
  
"I wonder how long you will say that." Despite the ominous words, Loki brushed Thor's hair off his face with the utmost tenderness before trailing his fingers downwards across his neck, stopping at the collar. He shot him a single questioning glance before working it open, his touches swift but careful as they unbuckled Thor's breastplate and displaced both it and the tunic beneath it.  
  
"You don't mind if I do this, then?" His hands moved onto Thor's bare chest, tracing circles around his nipples.  
  
Thor smiled at him. "I like it."  
  
"And this?" The fingers quested downwards across his stomach. Loki shifted his weight to the side as he unlaced Thor's trousers and, with a series of decisive tugs, pulled them halfway down his thighs.  
  
"Likewise." In truth, he felt strange with his cock in the open while Loki remained fully clothed, but it was a sensation he could get used to.  
  
"And..." Loki shot him another assessing look, this time with a hint of uncertainty mingled into it. He leaned backwards, his hand vanishing behind his thigh, only to return as a feather-light touch sliding across Thor's cock, teasing rather than pleasuring. It was gone before Thor could raise his hips to it, gliding down his inner thigh and creeping between his buttocks, where it finally came to a halt.  
  
"If I said I wanted to use this part of you," he pushed a lone finger tentatively at Thor's entrance as he spoke, "what would you do?"  
  
Thor considered it. The feeling was curious and not entirely pleasant even before the digit had actually breached him, but murmured late-night conversations and drunken stories claimed the experience could be a pleasure above all others. Besides, how could he ask of Loki something he wasn't willing to do himself? "I would give it a try."    
  
Loki raised an eyebrow and increased the pressure. "Truly?"  
  
Thor breathed in. "Aye, if that is what you want."  
  
Loki blinked slowly, as though he had never expected Thor to say yes. After a moment of silence, he straightened up and brought his hands back to Thor's chest, absent-mindedly stroking his muscles while his brow was knitted in thought.  
  
Slowly, his smile returned. "I will hold you to your word next time, then."  
  
Before Thor could do anything but feel a heady rush at the thought that he was already considering a "next time," Loki began to disrobe. He soon tired of managing his robes and left them half on, stripping only his boots and trousers and setting them neatly to the side before sitting back down, bare skin grinding against bare skin.  
  
His fingers returned to Thor's hardening cock, this time taking a proper grip, and with crafty strokes soon had him at full firmness. Seeking support from the floor with one hand while the other rested at the base of Thor's shaft, he positioned himself.  
  
"Are you su—" Thor's concerns fell on deaf ears and were banished entirely as Loki lowered himself and he found himself being enveloped in a single slow, smooth slide. He couldn't help but groan as more and more of him disappeared inside the greedy hole, till finally he was in to the hilt.  
  
His breath shuddered out half in pleasure, half in shock. How could it be so simple, Loki's body so relaxed and inviting when last time he had had to fight for every last inch? Where had this copious slickness easing him in come from, when he hadn't—  
  
_He was prepared_ , he realised with a trill of awe. _He must have planned this..._  
  
Loki sat still, his face flushed as he breathed slowly in and out, adjusting to the sensation. Then, with a final, decisive exhale, he began to move.  
  
Instinctively, Thor's hands flew upwards and grabbed his waist to steady him. It was nigh impossible to keep himself from sinking fully into the bliss of the moment, but he held back long enough to catch the look on Loki's face. He was rolling his hips with a slow, steady pace, quietly gaining momentum, but most importantly, Thor saw now signs of pain or hesitation. If anything, if his half-hooded eyes and the twitching of his cock against Thor's abdomen were anything to go by, he was enjoying himself immensely.  
  
Thor's hips bucked upwards by themselves at the thought.  
  
Loki eyes flew wide open as he fell utterly still.  
  
Just as Thor decided he had made the biggest mistake possible, and was already scrambling to get up when Loki's shoulders relaxed. He exhaled, then shot Thor a chiding look that melted into a smile. He returned to his grinding, tentative at first but soon regaining his previous speed.  
  
"Go on, then," he gasped.  
  
Thor didn't need to be told twice. He began at once thrusting upwards to Loki's pace, eagerly sinking into the welcoming warmth time and time and again. Loki responded by placing his hands over his, squeezing his fingers against his waist as he closed his eyes, his shallow panting growing distinctly satisfied.  
  
It didn't take long till Thor found it impossible to thrust deeply. His movements became sloppy, and he knew he couldn't last much longer when Loki suddenly clenched around him, spiralling him into a climax. Vaguely, he felt Loki spilling onto his stomach at the same moment his own seed shot deep inside his waiting hole.  
  
A moment later, Loki flopped off him with a soft, squelching sound, only to collapse on top of him gasping for breath. His robe still clung to him, having fallen off his shoulders during their tryst only to be caught by his arm guards. It now spread out behind him like the tail of a peacock.  
  
Thor gave a sleepy smile at the sight. He threw an arm across Loki's back and tilted his head to place a kiss on his sweaty forehead, then allowed his own eyes to fall shut.  
  
He had forgotten what it felt like to be wholly at peace.

 

* * *

  
  
"I will give you the throne if you want."  
  
Loki turned to stare, the water he had cupped in his hands escaping back into the pool. "What?"  
  
"You heard what I said." Thor leaned forward so eagerly he nearly fell back into the bath. "If it's kingship you want, you can have it."  
  
Loki stared at him for a long while, then returned to lathering himself. "Ridiculous."  
  
Thor let his feet sink back into the warm water. He watched it lap around his shins, no longer finding it quite as soothing as he had the moment before.  
  
He had felt sticky and ungainly when he had risen from the increasingly uncomfortable floor, but Loki had been nothing but adroit at pointing him to his belongings and taking him to the nearest baths. Like the rest of the fake palace, the room was a fine replica of one in Asgard, right down to the gilt-edged basin and the cluster of trees just barely visible through the narrow windows set against the ceiling. They had often shared the real bath as children till Frigga had put her foot down and made them bathe separately after one time too many entering the room to find it flooded.  
  
He had washed quickly, rejuvenated from the first touch of water warm enough that he had asked Loki if they were in fact within a volcano. He let the topic go immediately after the negative answer. There was a far more urgent matter to discuss as he waited for Loki to finish.  
  
Only, said discussion wasn't going at all as planned.  
  
"How is it ridiculous? You are a prince as much as I am."  
  
Loki scrubbed his arms as though he hadn't heard the previous remark. "And how do you suppose the people of Asgard would take the news? They would think I have enthralled you."  
  
Thor couldn't help but grin. "They wouldn't be entirely in the wrong."  
  
He had expected at least a small smile in response, but Loki's expression remained staid. "Even if they wouldn't rise up in arms, Father would put an end to it as soon as he awakened. Everyone knows he wants you on the throne."  
  
"What if we co-rule, instead?"  
  
Loki raised his feet from the pool and stood up. "It has similar issues. Besides, can you name a single pair of siblings who ruled together and didn't murder each other within a year?"  
  
Thor took in glistening skin and supple limbs as he tried to think of an answer, feeling a familiar warmth without the shame that usually accompanied it. "There is always a first."  
  
From the vague disappointment in Loki's eyes as he used magic to dry himself, Thor gathered there was some historical precedent he might have named to swing the argument to his side. Not that it mattered a moment later when Loki began to dress himself and continued. "Father wouldn't stand for it any more than he would to I alone on the throne, I wager."  
  
Thor found the re-use of the same excuse more than a little odd, but he let it go for the time being. "You could return to be the crown prince. That is already what you are, after all."  
  
Loki's frown re-emerged as he pulled his tunic over his head. "Though others know of us?"  
  
Only three knew, by Thor's reckoning, but perhaps it was three too many. "If you will not come to Asgard, would you rather I stay here with you?"  
  
Loki shrugged his robe on, but didn't hurry to do the clasps. "You would abandon your birthright and everything the king of Asgard should stand for to dwell in this hovel?"  
  
Thor looked around. "I wouldn't call it that."  
  
Loki raised his arm and made a sweeping gesture. The gleaming decor dematerialised, leaving behind rough-hewn stone and shattered pillars, dismal and dreary and long since abandoned. The pool was still there, though the cracked malachite finishing made it look full of weeds.  
  
"...I see your point."  
  
Another wave, and the splendour of Asgard returned. Loki turned his back to Thor. "In any case, that is utter folly. Even if you truly wished for it, which I doubt, do you think Father would take it lying down?"  
  
Odin again? "Are you that afraid of him?"  
  
"Why would I be afraid of my own father?"  
  
With some reluctance, Thor drew his feet from the water and stood up. "You told me earlier that you are."  
  
"I recall no such time."  
  
"Loki." He walked across the slippery tiles until he was directly behind him. "All I want is—"  
  
He never got a chance to properly state his plea. As soon as he touched his shoulder, Loki tensed violently and drew away, his arm rising to guard his throat as he spun to face Thor with wild eyes. He relaxed after the first blink, lowering his hands, but while Thor was still trying to understand why he would react to strongly to a light touch when not half an hour ago they had been joined together as one, he jerked further towards the wall with fresh terror.  
  
Thor stared at him, confused and concerned, when the realisation struck him like a hammer blow. He now remembered exactly when Loki had confessed he feared Odin. One look at Loki's face told him he remembered, too.  
  
"Loki..." His hand rose on its own accord, longing to offer comfort. He realised what he was doing and forced it back down.  
  
Loki showed no awareness of the gesture. He seemed to have withdrawn to his own world entirely, his eyes unfocused, his chest rising and falling as after heavy combat.  
  
Finally, with a shudder, he snapped back to the present moment. "Leave me."  
  
Thor bowed his head. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to—"  
  
Loki nodded, a hasty, jerky movement. "I know. Leave me."  
  
Thor needn't be told again. He padded across the room to where his belongings waited, and began to dress, barely noting how the fabrics clung to his damp skin. He made sure to keep his back turned to Loki, convinced the last thing his brother wished to see now was his face.  
  
His task complete, he swiped the dripping strands of hair glued to his forehead away from his eyes and risked a glance behind him. Loki had turned back towards the opposite wall.  
  
"Will I see you again?" he asked, expecting the usual response.  
  
"I suppose you will."  
  
The words gave Thor pause. Such an innocuous statement, one he would have been happy to hear less than five minutes earlier, but now it struck him as a death knell. "Will I truly?"  
  
Perhaps it was the fear it his voice that made Loki turn back towards him. He had composed himself, but his eyes were wary. "I swear we will walk side by side again."  
  
Feeling but a little comforted at the promise, Thor saw regardless it was time to leave. He nodded and headed to the door.

 

* * *

  
  
Loki listened till the last of Thor's footsteps ceased echoing in the corridor outside, confident he would find his own way out. The room felt darker for his absence.  
  
He left as soon as he was satisfied he was alone, keeping his pace up in an effort to distract himself, waiting for the tension that had locked his shoulders in place to wind out. The touch coming from behind, unexpected, had rekindled searing memories he otherwise kept buried at all costs. Thor couldn't have known, but he should have guessed. Loki was happy to curse his name to rid himself of the bile rising to his throat.  
  
He felt more charitable towards his brother as he exited the palace, the remnants of his anger dissipating towards the night sky. He observed the Bifrost, no longer recalling the true structure that lurked behind its appearance, then walked onto it. He sat down on the bridge and stilled till his heart finally settled.  
  
Slowly, the shadow of pain and helplessness passed into the abyss ahead. It would be back, but at least it was no longer his constant companion as it had been when he had first arrived. He could master it, the little setback he had just had notwithstanding, as certainly as he had relearnt how to fall asleep. The fact he required magic to aid him in the task changed nothing.  
  
His eyes swept across the dome and the tempestuous waters on either side of him, then returned to the gleaming palace he had left behind. Even tapping into the power of the artifact, it had been a challenge to make the illusion stable, but that had only made his success more rewarding. At times, before Thor's arrival, he had genuinely forgotten none of it was real.  
  
He lied down and crossed his hands over his chest, staring upwards and doing his best to pretend he was gazing at authentic stars and not an array of sparkling lies. He didn't entirely succeed. In other words, his exile had run its course. It was time to think about the future and what he truly wanted it to look like.  
  
He answer was clear enough that it might as well have been written in the stars above. He wished to go home. Only, the home he wished to go back to no longer existed. He could still return to Asgard, even if it was a different Asgard to the one he had left behind, but he refused to do so with his tail between his legs. He would rather let his nightmares swallow him whole.  
  
He closed his eyes. The illusion could fool his vision, but the air in the cavern remained musty and stagnant. It was a miracle anyone could breathe there, let alone think.  
  
All the same, he thought of Thor. His brother, so contrite and eager to please. His brother, who would prostrate himself before him if only he asked, and had already offered him everything he had simply to have him back. His brother, so well-meaning and willing to submit to his wishes, his to sway without need for schemes or manipulation.  
  
His brother, whom he loved more dearly than he had ever loved anyone in all of Nine Worlds.  
  
He opened his eyes. The constellations above were ready to remind him of their artificialness, mocking him. He glared back at them till they dimmed.  
  
Slowly, he began to smile.  
  
Well. Never let it be said Loki Odinson shied away from a challenge.

 

* * *

  
  
It was far from the first time Thor woke abruptly in the middle of the night, but it didn't make him any happier to be staring at his ceiling in the dark. With a groan, he turned to his side, hopeful to find himself back in slumber.  
  
No such luck. Further sleep eluded him, as through some unseen force had snatched it away entirely. Defeated, he got up and dressed, hobbling outside for some cool air.  
  
Once in a garden, he sat down on a circular bench moulded around a large ash and leaned against its trunk, letting out a long sigh as he raised his gaze skywards. The leaves of the ash were like a black shroud, hiding the stars behind them.  
  
Why he couldn't sleep that night, he could only guess. The day had been uneventful, filled with the brutal drudgery of rulership, its endless secrets and sacrifices he grew to hate more and more by the day. He hadn't seen Loki for some days now, not since their last encounter had come to such an unfortunate end, and the longer he had to wait, the more convinced he was the next time he descended into the mountain, he would find his last remaining link to his brother severed for good.  
  
The stillness around him had become suffocating. He didn't wish to disturb Heimdall's night-time vigil, but there was little harm in going over and asking him to send him to Nidavellir at once. Why dally any longer? He wasn't going to sleep anyway.  
  
He had just stood up when he saw something strange gliding in the corner of his eye. He turned his head to see an upright figure on the gallery at the other side of the garden, partially obscured by the balustrade and the bushes growing against it. It was either flying or walking with such a light step as to be indistinguishable from flying, travelling towards the shadows.  
  
Thor squinted and had already taken several steps towards the apparition when recognition set in. The next time he looked, it was gone. He stood still in the middle of the garden, listening but hearing nothing but the wind shaking the branches of the ash tree.  
  
So, he was back to seeing visions of Loki even in his waking hours.  
  
"Thor?"  
  
It was Lady Sif, approaching from the opposite direction than the apparition had vanished to, confusion in her eyes.  
  
He forced himself to smile. "What brings you here?"  
  
"I come here often when I can't sleep. I cannot say the same for you."  
  
He nodded. Funny, till then he'd never known she struggled with sleep. "There's enough room for both of us here, I hope."  
  
"Of course." After another curious look, she settled down on the bench. Thor retook his previous seat next to her, eyeing the gallery to see if the apparition would return. It did not.  
  
At length, he realised it was the first time he had been alone with Lady Sif for months.  
Their most recent private conversation had, due to no fault of hers, been one of the worst of his life, and he rather expected the mood to take a sudden shift to awkward.  
  
The silence remained companionable. It seemed she was happy to forget the entire episode, perhaps even to pretend Loki had never existed.  
  
Then, she spoke. "I take he isn't coming back yet."  
  
Thor turned towards her, surprised. Or not.  
  
She gave him a wan smile. "You didn't think we were entirely in the dark about where you have been travelling, did you? Although," she added after some hesitation, "I don't think the others have clued onto the full extent of the matter."  
  
"I would like to keep it that way."  
  
"That goes without saying."  
  
He leaned forward, trying to discern the colour of the flowers growing by the gallery. He thought them yellow, but it had been too long since he had seen them in sunlight to be sure. Without quite meaning to, he found himself baring his heart. Here was someone who already knew the situation and was willing to broach the subject. When would he next have such an opportunity to talk? "I fear he is staying away because of me."  
  
Lady Sif straightened her back and said nothing. Still, she listened.  
  
"He would like to return. I know he would." Loki had never actually said as much, rather the opposite, but Thor could read between the lines. "But as long as I stay here, I'm not sure he bear to do so." He smiled glumly. "And as it is, I cannot leave."  
  
Lady Sif regarded him in silence. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded deliberately neutral. "You still speak as though he is the only victim."  
  
Thor nodded, then looked away. She hadn't touched on this subject when they had last spoken, perhaps sensing Thor wouldn't have listened. Still, she was right: like as he might, he wasn't blind to his brother's misdeeds. Loki had done several highly questionable things and had, at the very least, knowingly put himself in harm's way.  
  
And yet, in spite of this knowledge, Thor felt none of the wrath he perhaps should have. Instead, he felt a conviction which only shined more brightly whenever it crossed his mind, more radiant each time he pictured Loki at his lowest point and remembered the tears he had shed.  
  
Just because someone played with fire didn't mean they should be allowed to burn.  
  
"I think he damaged himself more than he ever wounded me," he finally said.  
  
"And that erases your hurts?"  
  
"No. But I have long since forgiven him for them."  
  
Lady Sif let out a long sigh. She turned to observe the branches above them as the earlier silence returned, crisper and cooler than before.  
  
"I doubt I could do the same in your shoes," she finally said, her eyes still on the leaves. "Especially since I'm still cross with him myself."  
  
He glanced downwards. Though the wound had since healed without so much as a scar to show for it, he looked at where Loki's dagger has sliced the back of her hand clean open. "You have the right."  
  
Another sigh. "I meant on your behalf. I don't nurse grudges over slight cuts." Slowly, she lowered her gaze. "With that said... as long as he doesn't hurt you again, I would be glad to, if not forget, at least set aside what has passed."  
  
It was as if the cool air had suddenly become a warm embrace. It didn't last. "And if I hurt him?"  
  
"You won't." It was her first proper smile since they had began talking. "I know you."  
  
He returned the smile, something he had failed to do the previous time she had said as much. Even now, he couldn't retain it. "He would first have to forgive me for the last time I hurt him. Assuming he ever will."  
  
He could already hear the _"Who knows with Loki?"_ his friends were fond of saying, but Lady Sif said nothing of the sort. She leaned back, reaching out to touch the tree's weather-worn bark. "You miss him."  
  
It hadn't been a question, but Thor replied regardless. "Aye."  
  
"I'm sure he misses you as well."  
  
She had spoken softly, softly enough he at first thought he had simply misheard. Then he met her gaze, cool yet free of judgement, and knew she had meant it.  
  
Not for the first time, he realised just how fortunate he was.  
  
Then, quite unexpectedly, she raised her hand and patted him on the back. "Keep you chin up. It's always the darkest just before dawn."  
  
He couldn't help but chuckle. "Are you telling the King of Asgard to keep his chin up?"  
  
She smiled. "Indeed I am."  
  
Her mirth was cut short, however. She rose up suddenly, her eyes peeled to their rightat the narrow strip of sky between the trees and the tower where the Bifrost could be seen.  
  
He was back on his feet at once. "What is it?"  
  
She didn't answer. She didn't need to. He could already see the strange glow about the bridge. It almost looked as thought it was—  
  
"On fire," he murmured out loud.  
  
"How?" Lady Sif asked, suddenly hushed.  
  
"I don't know." It wasn't the time to ponder such things. "Go alert the guards."  
  
She nodded at once and hurried past him. He rushed in the opposite directions, calling for Mjölnir, certain he wanted to face whatever awaited him at the bridge with a weapon in hand.


	11. Burning Bright

By the time he reached the Bifrost, it was consumed by a roaring inferno.  
  
He stared at the iridescent flames, strangely beautiful despite the destruction they heralded, craning his neck to see if any footholds remained and witnessing only lumbering figures slowly but decisively making their way towards the dome, when Lady Sif rushed to his side with the Warriors Three and some alarmed members of the royal guard.  
  
"It's fire giants," she gasped the moment she caught her breath, confirming Thor's suspicions. "They're swarming in from the basements."  
  
"Is Surtur with them?" Surely they were not yet facing Ragnarök.  
  
"Not that we saw." Her eyes flitted towards the burning bridge, the flames reflected in them as they widened in horror. "Is Heimdall—"  
  
"He must be." Only Heimdall himself could have seen into the dome with the sea of flames and pungent smoke obscuring the view, but everything Thor knew of the watchman of the gods told him he was on the bridge.  
  
"I alerted the Queen." said Fandral, stepping ahead from behind Lady Sif's back. "She went to secure the All-Father."  
  
Hogun nodded. "All forces are already on the move."  
  
The guards they had brought with them certainly were. Some were attempting to quell the flames licking at the gates and the platform they stood on, while others stood in attention to guard them from the growing shadows within the fire.  
  
Thor nodded at them in approval. "Good." He raised Mjölnir. "I'm going in."  
  
"Wait!" Fandral lunged forward and clapped a hand on Thor's shoulder, as if intending to drag him back at once. "You will burn into a crisp for sure!"  
  
"Assuming the fumes don't get you first," Volstagg added, eyeing the shimmering clouds of smoke with great suspicion.  
  
Thor shook Fandral off. "I cannot allow the Bifrost to burn!"  
  
Despite the stifling heat, Lady Sif shivered. "It can be rebuilt. You cannot."  
  
She was right, of course. As king, he would be expected to lead the main force against an army, not to throw himself at a nigh suicidal rescue mission.  
  
Thor glanced over his shoulder at the bridge. The fires were rising still, forming massive pillars of flames threatening to pierce the skies themselves. The surface of the bridge on the few spots where it remained visible was bubbling into a colourful, oily ooze.  
  
He made up his mind. "And neither can Heimdall."  
  
No further protests came. In fact, the final words he heard as he pointed Mjölnir towards the dome were Lady Sif's. "Good luck."  
  
The fires rose to meet him as he whirled above them, a furious maw attempting to devour him whole but too slow to catch him. The heat was unbearable: it was as though the flames was already within him, filling his lungs with smoke and burning his flesh from inside out. Worse yet, Volstagg had had the right idea about the fumes: one inhale, and he felt giddy and fragmented, about to fall apart and scatter into space.  
  
And then, the worst was over. There were still small fires everywhere beneath him, but they were shy to rise, lacking either fuel or magical coaxing to burn through the rainbow as they did at the head of the bridge. A few short breaths later he was alert enough to see two fire giants trudging on just ahead, kindling fresh flames in their wake, their eyes burning white.  
  
The fires seared through his boots as he crashed his feet into the foremost giant's brow.  
  
He toppled over after the giant, landing on top of it as its back hit the bridge with a deafening, dangerous crack.  
  
Shaking off the stars in his eyes, he became dimly aware of the other giant gearing up for an attack behind him. He rolled over the fallen giant's belly and back onto the Bifrost just in time to block the thrust of his opponent's fiery lance. He mustered his strength and forced the lance backwards, then let go and dove while the giant still pushed back, aiming a blow at its knee.  
  
A crunch and a snap, and the giant fell sideways. It slid through the flames, then failed to grasp onto the edge and plummeted into the raging torrents below.  
  
Thor had no time to ponder the fate of those who found themselves swept into the void. He was already rushing ahead, leaping over the unconscious giant, dodging further flames and glistening puddles. He fought through the few remaining stragglers without missing a single step, then flew into the dome.  
  
Inside, pure chaos awaited. Heimdall was fending off six attackers so massive it was a small miracle their bulky frames fit into the dome, unharmed but for a deep burn just beneath his eye. He was unarmed and relying on his armour to block incoming attacks; his sword was lodged within its slot on the pedestal, which was curiously intact despite the smouldering floor and scorched walls. He saw Thor soon after he entered, but had no time to acknowledge his presence before he was forced to turn aside and evade a particularly furious blow.  
  
Thor kept moving. He ignored the four giants who had found it too difficult to reach their opponent in the confined space and were instead occupied in trying to melt the dome's ceiling, and instead lunged towards the two attempting to corner Heimdall.  
  
He tackled the nearest, a whip-wielding brute, aiming a fierce blow at its wrist. The whip was still flying through the air when the giant turned to seek its assailant and Thor followed the attack with an upwards strike to the abdomen.  
  
The giant fell to its knees. Using its lowered shoulder as a stepping stone, Thor leaped into the air and smote the other giant on the side of its head. Another tremendous thump, a loud clang as its flaming sword fell onto the floor in a shower of sparks, and then a final echoing crash as the giant collapsed next to the first. He landed by its head.  
  
"Well struck," said Heimdall, his eyes fixed on the remaining enemies.  
  
Thor straightened his back. By this time, the four upright giants had taken a considerable interest in the angry newcomer and were shuffling towards them with newfound determination.  
  
He grinned, the frenzy of battle drowning out all possible misgivings. "Shall we take them out, as well?"  
  
Heimdall's nod was vestigial, his true answer the radiance of his eyes.  
  
Thor took aim and charged, Heimdall dashing ahead at his side. As one, they dodged aside as the first of the giants attempted to crush them with its soot-stained morning star. Thor kept going and battered the giant's hand, while Heimdall careened towards the pedestal, his fingers quick in finding the hilt of his sword.  
  
That was the last Thor saw of him, as his attention was wholly taken by the fire giants. His first target had met the floor without making a sound, but the second proved more enterprising: it avoided Mjölnir with surprising agility, then brought forward its metal cudgel in a crushing blow.  
  
Thor lunged out of the way.  
  
He avoided the brunt of the attack, but the cudgel glanced at his side, so powerful still the impact sent him flying against the arched walls. He bounced back, ears ringing and numb  where the scorching weapon had bruised his ribcage, his muscles brimming with such electricity he cared of neither. Distantly, he thought he heard the Bifrost's mechanisms whirring to life, but decided he was hearing things.  
  
He jumped back into the fray. There was a sharp sound behind him as Heimdall pulled the sword free of the Bifrost, and the next moment Thor was already on his assailant, returning the favour with a blow squarely between its eyes. The giant crumpled to the floor.  
  
He took what felt like his first breath in minutes. Heimdall had wasted no time vanquishing the second of their remaining foes, and was now testing his mettle against the final one, clashing his blade against the giant's mace in an impressive show of strength. When they finally broke off, the giant took a single step back before launching into another attack, twisting its unguarded side directly towards Thor. It was an opportunity too good to let pass.  
  
Three running steps, and he smashed Mjölnir into the giant's side. Instead of the sickly snapping of breaking bones, he heard a curious clanging sound, and the waves resonating through his hammer told him he had struck steel. Why it should be so he couldn't explain, as the giant was like its kindred wreathed in nothing but flames, but his troubles were only just beginning: he giant swerved violently towards him, and Mjölnir was wrenched from his hand.  
  
He stared at where his weapon clung onto the fire giant's frame as though snared by an enchantment, then dodged backwards to evade its sweeping strike as it retaliated with a booming snarl. He wasted no time calling Mjölnir back to his hand, but the weapon faltered where it never had before and remained lodged in place.  
  
As the giant geared itself for another assault, Heimdall struck at its mace-wielding arm, only to find his sword similarly trapped.  
  
The move did succeed at shifting the giant's attention to Heimdall, and Thor took the opportunity to rush forward and grasp Mjölnir's shaft. He dug his heels into the melting floor, the metal burning his feet where the flames had eaten through the leather earlier, and pulled with all his might.  
  
Mjölnir budged a quarter of an inch, then remained stuck.  
  
The giant swivelled its head to look at him, then at Heimdall, then at him again. Its eyes, till then as unreadable as a pair of furnaces, lit up with malice.  
  
Before Thor could do more than tug at Mjölnir again in a desperate bid to free it, a wave of cold like a bitter northern wind washed over him. He looked up just in time to see a thick spear of ice impale the giant's throat.  
  
The spark in the giant's eyes went out. It wavered for a moment longer before finally joining its brethren on the floor, steam pouring forth from its wound.  
  
Mjölnir all but leaped into Thor's hand, the enchantment keeping it trapped broken, but the splash of joy he felt reclaiming it was a pale shadow to the one that roared through him as he looked towards the pedestal and saw who he had hoped to see.  
  
Loki kept his eyes on the toppled fire giant as if expecting it to rise and retaliate. His hand was still in the air when Thor strode towards, the sulphurous fumes suddenly as easy to breathe as pure mountain air, questions such as _how_ and _why_ all rendered meaningless.  
  
"Loki." Without thinking, he clasped Loki's upper arms, only then recalling what had happened the last time he had touched him. This time, however, Loki merely met his gaze without a single sign of discomfort. Emboldened, Thor threw his arms around him, happy to ignore his throbbing side in favour of holding his brother.  
  
"You came back." His voice was hoarse with smoke and awe alike.  
  
At first, Loki didn't return the embrace, but after the first stilled moment he rested his hands against Thor's arms. "I did say we would walk side by side again."  
  
Thor let go, still beaming.  
  
Heimdall had been giving Loki a long, stone-faced look, and his expression was unchanged when he turned towards Thor. "There are more at the palace. Many more. I do not know how they evaded my sight, but so they have done."  
  
Thor nodded. This was not the time for extended reunions. "I will go."  
  
"We will," Loki added, earning a raised eyebrow from Heimdall but no other rebuttal as he followed Thor to the exit.  
  
The Bifrost was still in one piece, but for how long was fully dependent on the will of the Norns. Some flames had died out on their own, resulting in smoky discolourations but little serious damage. In other parts, the fire had eaten through the rainbow, leaving behind only a wafer-thin sheet of translucent, film-like material. On the whole, the bridge looked so brittle a single step would surely cause the entire construction to collapse and send it crashing into space.  
  
Thor had already turned back towards the dome to ensure Heimdall was aware of the situation when Loki stepped past him, coming just short of setting foot on the bridge. Before Thor could ask him what he was planning, he took a deep breath and held out his hands in front of him.  
  
Winter fell. A wave of rime spread out of Loki's shadow and rushed forward, snuffing out the remaining embers as it enveloped the bridge in its bright, cool blaze. Within moments, the smoke and sound of crackling flames were gone, smothered by chilly vapours and the crinkling of snow, till those too died out, leaving behind a perfect silence. The rainbow was gone, but the icy Bifrost stood defiantly in its place, pristine and above all in piece.  
  
Loki's arms fell to his sides. He leaned his head back and inhaled slowly, as if trying to breathe in the ice.  
  
Impressed, Thor was already stepping ahead when Loki's arm shot before him.  
  
"It should hold, yes, but any pressure could damage the bridge further."  
  
Thor nodded. "Then we must fly."  
  
Loki glanced askance at his held-out arm, but then stepped towards him anyway and wrapped his arms around his body. In turn, Thor took hold of Loki's waist, and couldn't resist flashing him one last smile before aiming Mjölnir towards the palace.

 

* * *

  
  
The rest of the fire giants were vanquished and driven away without major incident. The warriors of Asgard had done an admirable job protecting the palace, and when Thor and Loki joined them, the tide of battle was decisively turned to favour the Aesir.  
  
For Thor's part, he spent the rest of the battle swinging Mjölnir with the broadest of grins on his face, likely alarming friend and foe alike, unable to contain the sheer joy of fighting once again with his brother by his side. It was only when he defenestrated the last of the attacking giants and the rest turned to flee that he finally saw the number of wounded warriors nursing their charred limbs and seared skin on the sidelines, and amidst them bodies both great and small, many of them still smoking. Even then, the comforting weight of Loki's hand on his arm kept the first crack on his happiness from spreading, and so it was with his head held high that he turned to greet Frigga as she emerged onto the battlefield with Asgard's finest healers.  
  
Then he saw who else had accompanied her. "Father."  
  
Odin nodded curtly, his neck stiffened by his long slumber. He held Gungnir as though it had never left his hand, leading Thor to wonder where exactly he had last left it before deciding it didn't matter. He still didn't look entirely healthy, but his gaze was bright and unwavering as it swept across the devastation and came to rest on the smouldering skull of a particularly massive giant.  
  
Realising where he stood, Thor stepped aside to ensure their parents had direct line of sight to their second son, too.  
  
The effect was immediate. Frigga gave a minute start before composing herself, her eyes jumping to Odin before settling back on Loki, clearly yearning to rush to him but not allowing herself to do so. Odin turned his head slowly, with nary a blink of surprise as he saw the cause of Frigga's reaction. He contemplated Loki in silence, his expression impossible to read.  
  
"He saved my life," Thor said, smiling at Loki in hopes it would break the spell of stillness that appeared to have fallen upon him. "He has fought bravely and prevented the destruction of the Bifrost."  
  
Slowly, ponderously, Odin nodded. "Well done." His eye fell on Thor. "Both of you."  
  
Frigga exhaled softly, her composure otherwise undisturbed. Loki gave only a minute nod, but Thor could practically hear the effort it took him to keep himself from grinning from ear to ear.  
  
Already, Odin turned to leave. "We will speak later."  
  
Frigga left with him, giving them an encouraging look while the healers busied themselves with the wounded warriors.  
  
Again, Thor was the first one to break the silence. "Have you carved yourself a suitable spot this time around?"  
  
Loki turned away, this time not quite managing to hide his smile. "We shall see."  
  
They spoke nothing further as they went to seek out Lady Sif and the Warriors Three and see to rest of the army.

 

* * *

  
  
It was already close to night-time before Thor next found himself alone with Loki.  
  
The day had been long and full, from accounting to the dead and wounded and assessing the damage to the infrastructure, to him officially returning Gungnir to Odin and finally the inevitable and hastily put together celebratory feast to precede the real event set a week later. All in all, apart from the lives lost, Asgard had weathered the attack with surprisingly little effect. Even the Bifrost, the engineers assured them, could be repaired in a matter of weeks thanks to Loki's quick actions.  
  
He was lying on his bed and debating whether to sleep though the sun had barely set, when the door in the adjacent room creaked open. He sat up just in time to see Loki, silent and ashen-faced, creeping in and quietly pushing the door back shut behind him.  
  
He was on his feet at once, sleepiness shedding away at each step. "What is it?"  
  
Loki kept his eyes to the floor, even as Thor placed a tentative hand of his arm. Slowly, his head came to rest against Thor's shoulder, with none of his earlier wariness in sight.  
  
Finally, he spoke. "Did you ever wonder why we are so close in age?"  
  
Thor frowned. "We are not secretly twins, surely?"  
  
"No. As it happens, I was born in Jotunheim."  
  
Thor's frown deepened. Surely Frigga hadn't been to Jotunheim during the war, especially not while pregnant? Then, realisation dawned. "You mean..."  
  
"Yes." Loki had pulled away and was observing Thor with a detached, bitter smile. "Apparently, no-one thought it important to tell me I'm adopted. Till now."  
  
Thor's first reaction was disbelief. This was... not a prank, necessarily, but some kind of a misunderstanding all the same. His brother couldn't possibly be a Jotun any more than Thor himself could be.  
  
Then, his mind turned to all the frost and rime Loki had conjured that morning. It proved nothing whatsoever, but it did make it easier to imagine him standing on a frozen plain with snowflakes clinging to his hair. Thor's imagination stopped sort at the loincloth and blue skin, however: instead, he pictured Loki as he was now, only nude and impervious to the cold.  
  
Heat rose to his cheeks as he dispelled the vision, after which he became very aware of how tense Loki's muscles were under his palm. He was waiting for a response, possibly an explosive one.  
  
"If you are..." he began before changing his mind. He would have to wrap his mind around the revelation at a later time, but all he had to say now was what he knew to be true regardless of his conclusions. "No matter where you are from, you will always be my brother."  
  
"I see." As casual as Loki's tone was, his shoulders remained rigid. "I suppose that is another thing we should discuss."  
  
"Aye." It wasn't a discussion Thor cared to have, not in the slightest, but it made no sense to delay the inevitable.  
  
Loki's hand found its way to Thor's and curled around his fingers. "The wise thing to do would be to pretend none of this ever happened."  
  
"Agreed." A heavy weight fell on his heart.  
  
"Adoptive or not, ours hasn't been brotherly behaviour."  
  
"Aye." The weight grew tenfold.  
  
"Nor is such a relationship something we could ever announce to the public, especially if the truth about my origins ever slips out. Who wants their crown prince consorting with a frost giant?"  
  
It was in equal parts his heartache and the sullenness creeping back into Loki's voice that made Thor free his hand to grab Loki's shoulders, desperately seeking eye contact. "The crown prince does."  
  
A rare look of genuine surprise flitted across Loki's features before he mastered them once more, followed by a humourless smile. "I hope the crown prince doesn't get his hopes up."  
  
Before Thor had time to ask if this meant the frost giant revelation had been a lie after all, Loki's lips found their way to his.  
  
He opened his mouth at once, pulling Loki into a tight embrace, wishing he never had to let go. When Loki brought his hands up to Thor's shoulder blades and deepened the kiss, he slowly allowed his hands to travel downwards and ultimately to cup his buttocks. As Loki leaned in closer, it had to have been the correct move.  
  
Once the kiss eventually broke, Loki withdrew. "It has been a long day." His smile, when it returned, had found its mirth. "Perhaps we will continue this at a later time."  
  
Thor nodded, not without regrets. To cool himself off, he thought of the ice-capped mountains of Jotunheim, only to recall where his most recent thoughts of the land had taken him. He hastily put an end to the images. "I will see you tomorrow."  
  
Loki nodded, once, then turned to leave.  
  
His hand was on the handle when Thor spoke again. "I saw you in the garden last night."  
  
Loki glanced back, puzzlement in his eyes. "When?"  
  
"Before the attack." This was not the purpose Thor had spoken up for — in fact, his fingers were still in his pocket, curled around the elven dagger he had meant to give as a token of his affection — but once the gears began turning, there seemed to be no stopping them. "I dreamed of you a lot, both before and after you left, so I thought little of it. But that was truly you, wasn't it?"  
  
Loki's expression revealed nothing. "Only if I'm capable of being in two places at once."  
  
"Aye," agreed Thor, with growing suspicion. "How did you return to Asgard, exactly?"  
  
"I walked out into the open and ordered Heimdall to bring me back." Loki shrugged. "It took so long I thought he had chosen to ignore me, and then I found myself standing next to the still smouldering corpse of a fire giant."  
  
Thor didn't waste time insisting Loki had alternative means in and out of Asgard. They both knew it, and this particular explanation was easy enough to check with Heimdall later. Instead, he fixated the sheer fortunate timing of it all, and felt all the disparate puzzle pieces falling in place at once.  
  
"I know why you took the artifact."  
  
Loki's hand fell from the door. He turned around with perfect casualness and waited, calm and quiet. The exact way Thor had known he would react.  
  
"I mean that artifact specifically. I don't know if they were its powers or yours alone, but I have seen what they can do. You meant to use its illusions to stage on attack on Asgard and then play the saviour when all hope seemed lost."  
  
The fact Loki took the words without a flicker of emotion convinced Thor he was right. "I gave it back, however. And those fire giants were perfectly real."  
  
"They were." His aching side attested to as much. "That is because you changed your plans. Instead of faking an attack, you travelled to Muspelheim and incited the giants there to assault Asgard." He would have loved to stop the words falling from his lips, if only to dispel the sudden chill that had taken residence in his gut, but they kept coming with a leaden finality to them. "You know of hidden paths to the palace, and could certainly have persuaded the giants to retaliate..."  
  
Two things happened as once. Thor's words petered out as he realised he was almost certain he had never told Loki of his misadventures in Muspelheim. That, however, was merely preamble to true strangeness.  
  
Loki's composure cracked. At first, he tried to contain himself, fighting against the force tugging the corners of his lips upwards, till finally he had to turn away in an effort to conceal his smile, eyes lustrous with inexplicable mirth.  
  
Thor looked on in utter amazement. He knew from growing up with him that his brother was capable of absolute, unflinching dishonesty, and that he was inevitably capable of hiding his guilt behind flawless unconcern. So why?  
  
Before he could decide what the outburst signified, Loki raised his gaze. The smile remained in a more subdued form, but all Thor really saw were his eyes. They were uncharacteristically soft, almost gentle for all their bright lustre, and gazing at Thor with an unbridled fondness so artless he barely recognised him.  
  
It was gone the next moment, so fast Thor was certain he had imagined it, replaced by a more customary smirk. "Is that what you think, then?"  
  
"Frankly, I don't know what to think." _Something_ had happened, but what had seemed like an obvious answer now felt anything but. "If you tell me I'm wrong, I will believe you. If you claim you were here for another purpose, or that I was seeing things and you weren't here at all till the fighting began, I will never bring it up again. But you must say something."  
  
Any remnants of amusement were swept away from Loki's face. Slowly, he turned to look Thor directly in the eye, his gaze level and without hesitation.  
  
"I love you."  
  
It was upon hearing those three words, uttered in perfect simplicity, that Thor realised what had happened didn't, at least for the time being, matter nearly as much as it ought to have.  
  
He breathed in. "I love you, too."  
  
"I know you do."  
  
The door swung open, and Loki slipped out.  
  
Thor stared after him in a vain hope the door would re-open and dispense a ready-made explanation to everything that had happened since the fateful drunken night. He would have to speak with Heimdall and get his account of the events, but he already knew that barring some kind of a truth-telling potion from the elven grimoire, few real answers would ever emerge.  
  
Perhaps it was better that way.  
  
With time, one thought rose above all others, of the final look Loki had given him after he had already turned the handle. Though fleeting, it had been same sincere affection which had so stunned him before. This time, he knew it had been real.  
  
Slowly, he found himself smiling again. It wasn't as unwavering as his smile that morning had been, but it was a smile nonetheless.  
  
He headed towards his bed, feeling for the sheathed blade once more. The future would have to wait. For now, it was time for sleep and, finally, hopeful dreams.


End file.
